NEW YEAR
by SANDEFUR
Summary: So many possibilities...
1. Chapter 1

NEW YEAR

by

SANDEFUR

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction just for fun. I have no claims.

12-31-07/Monday morning.

New Year's Eve…

Joan Girardi walks slowly – very slowly – stumbling a little every few steps. Her exhaustion is obvious to all, but Joan finds it confusing. True, she has had little sleep over the last 24 hours, and she just finished a workout with her tutor-angel, but after that was two hours of spiritual meditation. She should be rested, but Joan feels like she just ran a marathon. How can meditation wear you out? Joan stumbles again, almost falling, but a strong arm steadies her.

"Thanks Kevin."

Kevin, leaning on his cane, helps Joan make it to the steps in front of the Girardi home. They come to rest side by side with Joan catching her breath…

"Thanks again."

Kevin chuckles. "For a moment I thought you weren't going to make it. And hey, where's my welcome back hug? We see each other for the first time since last June and all you can say is 'thanks'? Aren't you a little bit curious about what I'm doing here?"

Joan looks at Kevin with surprise. "You're here for the start of Dad's campaign. Tomorrow he resigns as police chief and becomes a candidate for mayor. Are you getting forgetful in your old age? Kev, we talked this over yesterday when you showed up suddenly."

Kevin stares at Joan. "Joan…you weren't home yesterday when I got here. We haven't talked face to face since last summer. Are you okay? Maybe you overdid it on your morning workout?"

Joan's look of confusion and concern matches Kevin's. Something odd is going on, her thinking seems fuzzy, but she can't pinpoint why.

"I…wasn't here yesterday?"

"When I arrived yesterday afternoon, Mom and Dad said you left that morning and they didn't know when you would be back. This morning you were already out of the house on your workout when I got up. Mom said you got in very late, after everyone had already gone to bed. I was really surprised the 'rents were so casual about you disappearing for a whole day."

Joan catches the depth of concern in Kevin's voice. After all, when she visited him in Los Angeles last summer, she disappeared for two full days. "Oh…well, now that I'm getting older, I worked out an arrangement with Mom and Dad – mostly Dad. As long as I don't disappear for too long, time unspecified, and I check in occasionally, then I'll be trusted not to be getting into too much mischief… Are you sure we haven't had this same conversation before?"

"Positive. Joan, you're starting to worry me. What did you do yesterday?"

Joan pauses, finding the question surprisingly difficult. "I started as usual. At dawn I went to the park for my daily workout: jogging, isometrics, some martial arts practice…"

"Martial arts?"

"Hey, a girl needs to know how to protect herself. After that, I meditated for awhile. Then, I got a call from...a friend. We went off for a little adventure together."

"What sort of an adventure?"

Joan hesitates again as two sets of very clear memories compete in her mind. In one version, she never received the phone call from Issac B. Dunn, calling on her services for Homeland Security. She went straight home from the park and was there when Kevin made his surprise appearance. In the other version Joan remembers I.B. telling her to rush to the airport for an emergency assignment in Miami. This was particularly difficult for Joan due to the memories associated with that city – of her late fiance Jimmy Tubbs and the miscarriage she suffered. Still, duty called or rather, insisted.

Accompanied by Agent Melvin Brown, Director Dunn's personal flunky, Joan flew to Miami in a small government jet. Brown explained the assignment. An anonymous tip was made to Homeland Security about a potential bomber boarding a cruise ship that was leaving port that night. Normally I.B. wouldn't bother with something like an anonymous tipster, but this one had sent detailed messages to Homeland Security before, and they had always proven true.

At the cruise ship, Joan located the bomber in a matter of minutes, and the bomb turned out to be a small incendiary device – too small to do much real damage. Joan questioned why such a little bomb, but Agent Brown speculated the bomber was planning to force his way to the ship's fuel supply. Joan couldn't shake the feeling that the job was not done. Overwhelmingly, the sense of impending danger far out to sea became fixed in her mind. Although sensitive to the presence of evil, her range was never so far reaching before. Joan confidently marked a spot on a map and assured Agent Brown the ship would be at risk from whoever was in that location.

A Coast Guard cutter was dispatched to that area and encountered what turned out to be a stolen deep sea sports fishing boat. When challenged, the fast fishing craft tried to ram the cutter, only to receive a burst from a .50 caliber machine gun which set off an explosion that obliterated the fishing boat. The terrorist's plan was for the bomber to set a fire in his cabin using the incendiary bomb, marking the ship for a nightime attack while everyone was distracted. Thousands would have died…

"Joan, I asked what type of an adventure?"

"Sorry big brother, but co-ed friendship confidentiality rules." Joan says with a forced smile while wondering how the new meditation techniques her tutor was teaching were affecting her mind.

"Okay, I won't press, but are you thinking clearer?"

Joan nods. "You were right, I overdid my workout. I realize now I was remembering a dream from last night and became confused. Wow, it was so real."

"Yeah, I've had moments like that when a dream seemed totally real, but usually that fades minutes after you wake up."

"Maybe I'm dehydrated. I know it was just a dream because it had so much weird stuff in it. Like, I dreamed you told me Barbara was pregnant. She's not…right?"

Kevin laughs. "Definitely a dream. Barbara and I are super cautious about birth control. There's no room for a kid in our lives right now. Maybe someday… By the way, Barbara didn't come with me on this trip."

Joan almost says: 'I know, you already told me' but instead replies, "I think I'm still pretty worn out. Could you get me an energy drink from the fridge while I rest here?"

"Sure. While I'm gone, maybe you should reconsider your level of workouts."

Kevin heads into the house while Joan remains where she is because she spotted Little Girl God coming this way on a bicycle…

"Good morning, Joan."

"Not for me it isn't since I'm, ya' know, going insane."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I have two completely different sets of memories of what I did yesterday. What else can that be besides going nuts?"

"If you relax your thoughts and let your Florida experience come to you, what else do you remember?"

Joan complies, and after a few moments she gasps, "More memories…and I'm not sure which ones are real! In one scenario I turned down I.B.'s request because the trip was too distressful for me. The terrorist's attack succeeded and the cruise ship was sunk. But, in another scenario, Agent Brown and I flew by helicopter to the Coast Guard cutter and the distraction of our arrival allowed the fishing boat to ram the cutter. Everyone was killed, including me… God, help me!"

"Easy Joan, time to organize your thoughts." Little Girl God says as she takes Joan's hand. Instantly, Joan calms down. A few moments pass…

"Okay, I'm seeing it a little clearer now. All of those memories are still there, but it's like they are in a list. At the top of the list is the scenario where I went to Florida and stopped the terrorists. Is that the true memory?"

"That is the reality strand that the world will see as true. The most likely scenario did occur, which was your success, Joan."

"This is a side effect of these new meditation techniques, isn't it?"

"Yes Joan, you are on the cusp of a new level of perception. At first this will be confusing, but in time and with practice, the confusion will fade."

"Scary stuff, not being able to trust your own memories."

"Every person has their own perception of reality, and they can vary widely for even the most minor event. You Joan have an opportunity to see reality in a whole new way, not just in the moment to moment manner, but as past, present and future blended together with an infinite diversity of possibilities."

"Is this how you see existence?"

"To a limited extent. How would you say most people see time?"

"Like a river, always flowing forward."

Little Girl God smiles. "The closest I can explain my perception of time is as a…musical rainbow. I see the beginning, the middle and the end all as one. The shape is fixed, but the individual layers of hues and chords of notes are infinitely varied due to my gift of free will."

"People go higher or lower in the spectrum according to their life choices?"

"And that keeps time in a state of flux, even when the most likely 'scenario' is known. It is an awesome thing to behold."

"Then…why does life seem so ugly most of the time?"

"Think of it as a mosaic. Each individual piece has no perception of how the entire pattern looks. To each piece of the mosaic, life seems broken and disjointed, but all of the pieces fit together to form…beauty."

"Maybe so, but from my 'mosaic' perspective, this might be too weird to handle."

"If so Joan, you may choose to forever withdraw from the process."

"So I don't have to go through with this? No hard feelings?"

"Joan, you have been on a journey of spiritual growth all of your life, but obviously that has intensified the last few years. Every individual goes through stages of growth, and each stage is always more difficult than the last. You have already completed your current stage and have done well. As for what comes next, I can only encourage you to do your best. The ultimate decision is up to your free will. There is no shame in not going on, nor will that affect our relationship."

Little Girl God pedals away on her bike while giving the backhand wave. Joan considers her words.

X X X X X

That afternoon Will Girardi is in the master suite trying on his dress uniform and checking out the fit in the full length mirror. Helen enters...

"Admiring yourself, handsome?"

Will blushes a little. "I just wanted to be sure the old uniform still fit. It's been awhile since I tried it on. I'm surprised, it actually feels a bit loose."

"That's because we have been strictly watching our diets and getting more exercise. You do look good in that, especially with the gold braid and all of your medals."

"My last chance to wear it."

"You'll look great tomorrow as the Grand Marshal of the New Year's Day parade. Will, I know you're doing this for me..."

"Being Grand Marshal?"

"No, quitting being a cop. I just want you to know how much I appreciate this sacrifice."

"Helen, yes I did first consider this run for mayor because you were worried about me being a cop when we have a new child to care for. But...I have to admit I'm excited about this run for office. It's the first time in years that I've tried something new and challenging. I almost feel young again."

"Hey, for a politician, 52 is not old at all."

"While for a cop, it's getting a little long in the tooth. At least I don't have to worry about chasing down some teenage suspect and looking foolish. Now, if I just don't make an equal fool of myself when I make my announcement speech tomorrow."

"Speech all finished?"

"Finished and rehearsed about a dozen times."

"You'll do fine, Will. You've been making speeches for years."

"As a cop. There's something about wearing the badge that gives you extra confidence in any situation."

"Then we will have to work on making you confident while not wearing a badge." Helen says as she locks the door. She advances on her husband with a naughty smile...

Down the hallway...

Luke looks through a crack in the door to his and Grace's bedroom (Kevin's old room). Grace has her shoes kicked off and is laying next to Annie. They are both asleep. Chasing after a very active 16 month old daughter can be exhausting, and Grace has learned the trick to rest when the little dynamo does. Luke smiles as he admires his wife and child...

"Thank you, God." Luke whispers as a tear comes to his eye. He feels a hand on his shoulder... Luke turns.

"Luke, you are one very lucky guy." Kevin whispers as he takes in the scene.

Luke nods and softly closes the door. "I guess it sounds strange what I said..."

Kevin shakes his head. "Are you kidding? Every time I look at my life: a great paying job I enjoy, a beautiful woman to love and I'm walking again...I also thank God daily."

"Kev, I thought you weren't religious."

"I'm not 'churchy' but I definitely believe in God. How could I not when I've beaten such long odds?"

"How are the legs?"

Kevin shrugs. "I get around okay most of the time. Stairs are still a hassle, and I tire out faster than I would like, but overall I'm doing good. I've hit what my doctor calls a plateau in my rehab. It's been awhile since I've noticed any progress, and I have to face the possibility that this is as far as my recovery will go."

"You're not giving up are you?"

"No, and my ladylove makes sure I don't."

Luke notes the affectionate tone in Kevin's voice. "How are you and Barbara?"

"Good...at least we are now. Christmas morning I made a boneheaded mistake. I knew Barbara had major issues with the idea of marriage but like an idiot, I proposed - complete with diamond ring."

"What happened?"

"She turned me down, we had a big fight and there were a lot of hurt feelings. Eventually it all worked itself out, and now we are sort of, kind of...engaged."

"What does that mean?"

Kevin smiles. "I got Barbara to agree that if we are still together and happy after ten years, we will get married."

"Ten years?"

"I would have tried for five, but I thought that might have been pushing my luck. Who knows, maybe a decade from now I'll be a father just like you."

"If not sooner. As Grace and I learned, no birth control is a hundred percent. You need to be especially careful not to use more than one layer of condoms. That was our mistake. The 'double-bagging' causes extra friction which causes the condoms to fail."

Kevin winces. "Knock wood, that won't happen to us. Barbara's real father is on his sixth marriage and sixth child. His lifelong pattern has been to divorce a year or two after each new wife delivers a kid. You can imagine how that has made Barbara feel about the combination of marriage and children."

"Does Barbara like kids?"

"Not sure. She rarely interacts with them, although, she is truly fond of her new baby sister. Or rather, half-sister, Lydia. Maybe that's an encouraging sign? Say, this summer, why don't you and Grace come out for a visit? With Annie in our home, maybe Barbara will warm up to the idea of having a baby. How could anyone not find Annie a delight?"

Luke beams with pride. "She is amazing, isn't she? And much smarter than any of us expected. I truly believe her I.Q. will measure far higher than my own."

"I was thinking more along the lines of how adorably cute she is, but yeah, I noticed we have another 'brain' in the family. God knows where those genes came from. Hey, maybe a kid of mine will get the smart gene too?"

"Kev, you seem to be fixated on having a child."

"Oh...I guess that's because Joan put the idea into my head. She told me about a dream she had where Barbara was pregnant. Now I can't get the idea out of my mind, which I know is a mistake. Considering how much the thought of just marriage freaked her out, I don't dare risk being the first to suggest the possibility of having a baby"

"But...you would like one?"

Kevin nods. "Yeah, I guess I do. I always assumed I would have kids once I found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Now I have, and I'm not sure she will ever agree."

"If you really think a vist from Annie would help, then I'm sure Grace would agree to us visiting this summer."

Kevin smiles. "Great. Annie can win anyone over to the idea of parenthood, unlike our grumpy little sister, E.T."

"Uh, about the 'E.T.' name, that's become a bit of a sore spot around here. Mom and Dad, especially Mom, really want us to start saying 'Eleanor'."

"Thanks for the heads-up, even though E.T. seems to fit the little alien a lot better. Really, I've never come across such a disagreeable kid, and she's only a baby. I shudder to think what our little sister will put our parents through in the coming years..."

A cry of distress from Joan's room reaches the brothers' ears. Quickly they are at Joan's door and Luke gives a perfunctory knock.

"Joan, we're coming in." Luke says as he opens the door.

Luke and Kevin rush in and see Joan is asleep on her bed, thrashing about in an obvious nightmare. Kevin gently shakes his sister's shoulder...

"Joan... Joan! Wake up."

Joan awakens, looking about wildly at her surroundings, seemingly unsure of what is going on...

"Kevin...? You're...walking?"

"Sure, you remember I'm no longer in the wheelchair, right?"

Joan gives an unconvincing nod. "Luke, is Grace...alive?"

"Joan, of course she is. Grace and Annie are asleep in our room."

"Annie? Who...oh wait, Annie!"

Kevin asks, "Joan are you okay? Were you having a bad dream?"

Joan nods again, breathing hard. "Oh God, wow...that was the mother of all nightmares. So many weird things were going on."

Luke asks, "You dreamed Grace was dead?"

"Yeah, it was really strange. Grace was a ghost, but not like a real ghost. More like a movie type ghost. She was floating around in this flowing white gown, and she was watching all of our lives but she couldn't interact with us. She was even travelling in space..."

Kevin chuckles. "Now that's a dream and a half. Maybe it would make a sci-fi TV show...no wait, there already was a 'Space Ghost'."

Kevin laughs again and a nervous looking Luke joins in. Joan sits quietly, trying hard to remember what is and isn't real. Apparently while asleep, her subconscious was free to explore the endless possibilities of alternate timelines. Hundreds of fragmented images flash through Joan's mind, but as she forces herself to calm down, they begin organizing themselves into a variety of different scenarios.

Joan sees alternate possibilities for many of the events in her life... Her and Adam still a loving couple because he chose not to cheat on her. In another, her and Adam never a couple because he never forgave her for smashing his sculpture, which meant she wasn't there for him when he was considering suicide...oh God, not that! But further along in that scenario, Judith still alive because there was no special date with Adam and that fateful night Judith had a sleepover with Joan. And Ramsey...killing all of those people at Arcadia High because Joan was too scared to ask the school bully to the semi-formal. But in another, Ramsey didn't bring booze with him to the dance, leading to the first of many dates with the guy...who eventually became Joan's 'first'. (Eww.) And even further back...to God's first assignment to work at the bookstore, which Joan flatly refused. The serial killer slew another local teen, and then moved on - following a long pattern of killing in threes. Eventually he was caught by the F.B.I.'s Behavorial Analysis Unit, which included Dr. Spencer Reid...

"Oh crap, my date! What time is it?"

"A little after three." Kevin replies.

"I have to get ready. Okay brothers, get out unless you want to see more of your sister than is proper. And I claim the bathroom too!"

As Joan begins pushing her brothers out of her room, Kevin asks, "What's the rush? How early is your guy picking you up for a New Year's Eve date?"

"Luke, you explain. I don't have time!"

As soon as Kevin and Luke are back in the hall, Joan slams the door.

"Joan is dating?" Kevin asks.

Luke nods. "An F.B.I. agent she met last October by the name of Spencer Reid. It's Joan's first date since...Jimmy."

"Well good for her, but why the rush?"

"Joan is meeting 'Spencer' in Washington, so that's nearly ninety miles she has to drive. I wonder...what did Joan mean when she said Grace didn't look like a 'real ghost'?"

Kevin shrugs. "Who knows what goes on in the odd little mind of Joan Girardi?"

X X X X X

Three hours later, Joan stands in front of her own full length mirror, admiring the effort she has put in for her date...her hair and make-up perfect, and the very expensive dress she is squeezed into...

"I look smokin' hot."

Laying on the bed, Grace chuckles, "Aren't you the modest one?"

Joan hesitantly asks, "You don't think I look good?"

"Just joking. Your boyfriend's eyes will pop out of his head when he sees you in that dress."

"Thanks Grace, and he's not my boyfriend. This is just our first date."

"Yeah, but I know the two of you have been flirting on the phone for days. I think you like him."

Joan smiles, blushes a little and nods. "I really do. I've never considered someone like Spencer before, but he's so nice and smart and really cute in a geeky sort of way."

Grace laughs. "Trust me, once you go geek, you never go back. So...are you going to sleep with him?"

"Grace...!" Joan says, faking outrage. "It's our first date. What kind of a girl do you think I am?"

"The kind who is now a woman. A woman who has been miserable with loneliness for a long time. A woman whom I noticed has packed an overnight bag?"

"Oh that. Just me being practical. This dress maybe dynamite for a date, but it is also tight in all sorts of places and more than a little inappropriate for winter weather. I thought before I drive back tonight, I would change into something warmer and more comfortable."

Grace grins. "Very practical. And should you happen to spend the night with the guy, you don't have the shame of wearing that sexy outfit home when you return...in the morning."

"Grace, I am not going to sleep with Spencer, 100 percent guaranteed."

A voice from the doorway comments, "That's always good for a mother to hear."

Helen enters the room and Grace rises from the bed, heading for the doorway. Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law pass each other with a cool nod.

"Have fun tonight Joan, you deserve it." Grace says as she exits, closing the door behind her.

Helen stands behind Joan, admiring Joan's dress, but also frowning a bit.

Joan asks, "Are you and Grace still having problems?"

"Of course not Joan. I love Grace."

"Which doesn't mean you can't be pissed off at her. What happened between you two?"

"I'd rather not discuss it. Grace and I...had words about something, but we're working it out."

"Okay, I won't pry. So, tell me, what do you think of my outfit?"

As Joan turns and models for her mother, Helen smiles. "Joan, you look beautiful, but if you were still underaged, I would say there is no way I would ever let you out of the house barely dressed like that."

Joan looks back at the mirror. "Too much?"

"Too much skin and not enough dress."

"I know it's skimpy, but I really wanted to grab Spencer's attention. It's been a long time since I dated anyone, and I need to experience that 'wow' moment."

"Wow moment?"

"You know, that first moment on a date when a guy sees how you've gone all out and he reacts with his jaw dropping and his eyes bulging out."

"After Spencer sees you in that dress, it won't just be his eyes that are bulging."

"Mom...!" Joan giggles, but then looks in the mirror again. "You don't think he will consider me cheap, looking like this? I want to impress Spencer, but I don't want him to be ashamed of me. We're going to be surrounded by a mostly older crowd, and I don't want his friends and colleagues thinking I'm some sort of skank."

Mother and daughter evaluate the dress, which is red with a sparkle pattern. The dress is strapless, very tight in all of the curves, there is a slit up one side that goes halfway up Joan's thigh - showing off how good her legs look, and the plunging neckline shows an impressive amount of clevage.

"I think you will be the sexiest, most beautiful girl...I mean woman, there. All of the men will admire you and all of the women will hate you for making them look so dull in comparison. Spencer will be proud to have you on his arm. Now, if you can just keep 'the girls' from popping out..."

"They're taped in place."

"You're kidding."

"The tape came with the dress to prevent any wardrobe malfunction. Even so, I'm going to be careful how I move in this rig."

"Good idea. Another good idea might be to put on your winter coat before you go downstairs. Your father might go into protective daddy mode if he sees his little girl going out dressed like this."

Joan nods her agreement. "My coat is downstairs."

"I'll get it for you."

Helen exits and Joan goes to her closet. Hidden on the top shelf is a strongbox, which Joan opens with a key. Inside are a variety of items she keeps secret from the family: a vaguely worded presidential citation signed by George W. Bush (for saving Arcadia from Ryan Hunter's nuclear bomb), a few souvenirs from her various assignments for God - including the silver cross he personally gave her, a taser (a girl can't be too careful) and her high security clearance badge from Homeland Security which identifies her as a 'consultant'. Going amongst Washington's federal types, Joan reluctantly sees a possible need for the security badge. Joan also notices an unopened box of condoms...

"I am not going to sleep with Spencer on our first date...95 percent guaranteed."

Joan hesitantly slips a couple of the condoms into her purse while realizing that her problem with timeline scenarios has completely faded away. Well of course, she knows this. The more she focuses on the physical, the less her spiritual connection. And as she contemplates her date tonight, the 'physical' is definitely foremost in Joan's mind.

Meanwhile...

Luke enters his bedroom and finds an anxious Grace waiting.

"Did you do it?" Grace asks.

Luke shakes his head. "I couldn't get near Joan's truck. Dad and Kevin are doing that guy thing of going over it, checking the oil and tire pressure and talking about the truck's various features. There was no way I could get close enough to sabotage it."

"We've got to stop your sister from going to Washington."

"Grace, I've been thinking about that. Maybe we're overreacting?"

"After what I saw during my nap?"

"Grace, you said you astral travelled to a cheap motel just outside of Washington and saw a man with four suitcase bombs..."

"And a map of Washington and formal wear in a dry cleaner's bag. Joan is going to a formal party in Washington!"

"Yes, but it's one of dozens such parties going on in the capital tonight. What are the odds that the one Joan is going to is the target? Besides, we already did the 'anonymous tip' thing to Homeland Security. The odds are they have already acted on our text message and have raided that motel, arresting the bad guy."

"We can't be sure."

"I don't know, apparently our messages sent through disposable cell phones are being taken seriously by Homeland Security. There was no report of anything going wrong with that cruise ship we warned them about. As we continue this pattern of anonymous tips, I'm sure the authorities will begin to always heed our warnings. And have you noticed, the number of astral travel assignments you are getting from God are increasing?"

"I think that's because we stopped playing around with this gift God gave me and are finally being serious about it."

Luke shakes his head. "It still amazes me that God is doing this through you. If people knew..."

"Our lives would be ruined. Luke, we have to stop Joan from going."

"How Grace, trip her on the stairs?"

"Well..."

"I was kidding. Grace, we have done our part and we have to trust that God will do his. We can't stop Joan from going into Washington, no more than we can stop any of the other countless thousands who will be going into D.C. for the holiday celebration."

Grace sighs and nods her head. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just that I worry about Joan. Her life has been so hard lately, and I want to keep her safe from anything bad."

"So do I, but life is always challenging. Joan will just have to take her chances with what life throws at her just like the rest of us, but I truly believe she is safe tonight. Hey, you want to hear a weird coincidence? Joan had this bad dream..."

To Be Continued. Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

THE DATE

12-31-07/Monday evening.

Joan travels carefully through the streets of the nation's capital, exactly following the truck's GPS. The journey from Arcadia had gone well as the interstate was clear of snow and traffic was light. The Ford performed well, but it had been the topic of conversation just before leaving…

"I never figured you for a truck drivin' gal." Kevin said with a wide smile.

"I needed a vehicle and I inherited the truck from Jimmy."

"Still, it was quite a bother to drive it up all the way from Florida. You could have sold the truck there and used the money to buy a more 'Joan-like' choice here."

"The truck is only a little more than a year old and I adapted quickly to driving it. I like having a higher up view of traffic."

"Very sensible…but what was the real reason you kept the truck? Maybe it had a sentimental value after the two of you...did it in the truck?"

"Kev…" Joan began, followed by blushing and a nod.

Kevin laughed. "I knew it!"

"Fine Sherlock, you caught me. How about a little discretion?"

"My lips are sealed. And Joan, I really am glad you're…ya' know."

Joan sighed. "Finally getting on with my life. Yeah, I've been hearing this for months. So okay, it's full speed ahead."

"Does that mean you're going to sleep with this Spencer guy?"

"Of course not, Mr. Nosy." (90 percent guaranteed.)

Kevin's jokey farewell actually stirred a lot of troubling feelings for Joan. Is she really ready to date again? Certainly her libido and lonely soul are saying yes. But on a certain level, Joan can't shake the feeling she is betraying Jimmy. It was only today that she finally took off the engagement ring Jimmy gave her. Now locked in her strongbox, it is the first time since getting engaged that the ring has been off Joan's finger…

Joan's lip quivers as she recalls Jimmy proposing to her only last July. If that isn't enough to stir guilt, this new ability to perceive alternate timelines has added to Joan's burden. During her quick trip to Miami, Joan clearly saw the most likely scenario for Jimmy's life if they had not met. Jimmy would still be alive and happily dating a fellow Miami cop named Debra Morgan. Who knows how this change in the 'ripples' might even now be affecting this 'Debra' woman's lifepath?

Joan pulls to a stop in front of the ultra luxurious Hotel Panamanian, and for a moment she considers changing her mind about this date. But a very efficient red-jacketed valet appears at Joan's door. Joan accepts the valet ticket for her truck, and as it pulls away, Joan spots Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid hurrying down the hotel's steps to greet her. Like her, Spencer is also wearing a long winter coat. Spencer smiles and Joan is glad her memory of him rings true. Even though it has been two months since they last met, he is still very cute.

"Joan, it is so good to see you again." Spencer says as they exchange a hug.

"You too, Spencer. I'm really looking forward to this evening."

Spencer notes Joan's hair and makeup. "You look lovely."

"Thanks. Your hair is longer." Joan says as Spencer takes her arm and escorts her inside.

As they cross a large and elegant lobby, Spencer responds, "You'll think I'm vain, but my hair length is an on-going concern of mine. I immodestly think I look better with it long, but in an organization like the F.B.I., I start to feel the long hair makes me look unprofessional. When that thought starts to distract me, I cut it short. I'm relieved to have a more professional appearance because it can be difficult to be taken serious at my age amongst older co-workers, but then I miss the longer hair..."

Joan chuckles, "And the process starts all over again. Well, my opinion, you're right - you look better with it long. Looking your best and feeling confident about it will give you an air of professionalism, even if your appearance is outside the norm."

To Joan's surprise, she can sense Spencer is giving serious consideration to her words. At the cloakroom Spencer hands his overcoat to the attendant and while his back is turned, Joan removes her coat. Time to see if she will get her 'wow' moment. Spencer turns...

Joan tries to hand her coat to Spencer, but his body is frozen. However, his eyes are very actively looking Joan up and down, lingering on one tantalizing feature after another. At some point someone must have taught Spencer the rules of being a gentleman for he resumes eye contact, but Joan can tell it is a struggle for him. Spencer gulps hard...

"Joan, you look beautiful. That is an amazing dress."

"This old thing? Just something I threw on, and by that I mean it took me three hours to look like this."

A non-stop silly smile of pleasure and approval is on Spencer's face. "Definitely worth it."

Joan smiles back, enjoying her 'wow' moment. "And you Spencer, looking good in that tuxedo."

Spencer nods. "It's a common saying that all men look good in a tuxedo."

"I'm not sure about that, but the tux is a big improvement over your usual sweater vest and pocket protector. You look very handsome."

Spencer blushes before offering his arm. "This way to the grand ballroom."

As they proceed down a corridor, Spencer continues... "The modern tuxedo evolved out of a style of dress invented by a man named George Brummel. Known as 'Beau' Brummel, he was a confidante and fashion adviser to the Prince of Wales during England's Regency era. Prior to Brummel's influence, men wore brightly colored evening wear, makeup and lots of perfume to mask their habit of only bathing once a month or less. Brummel believed men should dress in a simpler, more elegant manner in black and white. He also promoted the idea of bathing daily."

"Sounds like we should all be grateful to this Beau Brummel. Someone should put up a statue."

"They recently did. In 2002 the artist Irena Sedlecka's staute of Brummel was erected on Jermyn Street in London. Sedlecka's works..."

As they enter the ballroom, Joan stops short. "Spencer...wow, now this is what I call a 'grand' ballroom."

Joan looks at the vast room with awe. An enormous room, it has a high vaulted ceiling with beautiful crystal chandeliers, all supported by four massive columns. To the far left is a huge window overlooking the hotel's sculptured gardens, and to the right is the bandstand where a band plays fairly modern tunes. Along the walls are large potted plants that partially conceal small alcoves and everything is panelled in a quality of wood that would be impossible to duplicate in this age. An impressive staircase leads to a balcony area that overlooks the dance floor, with small tables serviced by uniformed waiters. The dance floor is so vast, even with several hundred people present, there is no sense of crowding.

Spencer immediately launches into this new topic... "The Hotel Panamanian, built in 1925, has the largest ballroom in the city. At the time of its' construction, this was the most expensively built hotel in the country. For decades the Panamanian was the premiere hotel in Washington, and it has an amazing history of every type of famous people who have stayed here, including royalty, movie stars, presidents, foreign leaders, and so on. For nearly fifty years the Panamanian dominated the elegant, wealthy hotel scene in the capital. However, it began to go into decline as tastes changed and age caught up with the old hotel. By the mid-eighties the Panamanian had closed and was slated for demolition..."

"Which obviously didn't happen." Joan says as she notes how Spencer is a bit like Luke. He has so much information stored in that impressive brain, it just spills out with the slightest prompting.

"Preservationists fought hard to save the old hotel. It was named a national landmark and public funding was made available for a restoration project. A group of investors bought the Panamanian in '93 and gutted the old place. Historical features such as the panelling, chandeliers, brass railings, marble flooring and so forth were saved, but the rest of the hotel is completely new and modern. Only the styling remains as a reminder of an earlier era."

"Like those alcoves along the walls? Are those make-out spots?"

"At the time the hotel was constructed, public displays of affection were considered scandalous. The alcoves were there for a brief moment of kissing between young people in love..."

Spencer pauses, blushing. He is hoping Joan doesn't think he was suggesting... Joan smiles. Although she is trying hard not to 'read' Spencer, he is much too honest and guileless not to see what he is thinking. Once again Joan is struck by how nice a guy Spencer is, and how unaffected he is by the harsh things he experiences as a profiler for the F.B.I. Although older than Joan, Spencer has spent nearly all of his life as a sheltered academic, and in many ways he is far less experienced with the world than her. Joan finds this charming and reminds herself this is their first date - she is not going to sleep with him...(85 percent guaranteed).

"Would you like to meet my friend Morgan and his date?"

"Sure. Morgan is a fellow profiler?"

"Yes, but unlike me, he began his career as a cop in Chicago."

"My Dad was a cop in Chicago." Joan comments as she accompanies Spencer up the stairs to the balcony area.

"Perhaps they are acquainted?"

"Morgan is also the guy who has been mentoring you on how to score with women?"

Spencer blushes again. "I definitely didn't say that. Morgan is just helping me gain a little confidence and experience with approaching the opposite sex."

"Leading to scoring with them."

"Well...I suppose if you extrapilate to the ultimate conclusion..."

"Spencer, just kidding."

They reach the balcony area, a very large room of its' own with a bar. There is a brisk business in drinks and canapes being served. Joan and Spencer approach a table for two, one of the closest to the balcony railing and with a great view of the dancefloor below. At the table is an attractive woman around thirty and a man who causes Joan to hesitate for just a moment. Spencer's friend Morgan reminds Joan so much of Jimmy, it is eerie. Not that you would mistake them for twins, but like Jimmy, Morgan is ruggedly good looking, muscularly built, with a shaved head and a coffee & cream complexion that so reminds Joan of her late fiance, they could be brothers. Morgan stands and smiles a greeting...

"Reid, this is Joan? You didn't do her beauty justice."

Spencer beams with pride as he makes introductions. "Joan Girardi, this is my good friend, Derek Morgan."

"A pleasure to meet you, Joan. This is my date, Dr. Janet Jefferson."

Hanshakes and smiles go around the gathering.

"Are you F.B.I. as well, Dr. Jefferson?"

"Please call me Janet, and no. Despite this being a dance that consists mostly of government types, I'm a dentist who just happen to meet Derek at a coffee shop a couple of weeks ago. What about you, Joan?"

"Just a college student studying pre-law." Joan says as she notices Morgan's raised eyebrow at that. Obviously he is aware of Joan's connection to Homeland Security.

Morgan asks, "Janet, would you like to take a turn around the dancefloor?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Morgan adds, "Why don't you two take our table? It's reserved, but as the night goes along this place will fill, and someone might try to poach our spot."

Janet says, "Yes, and that way I can leave my purse behind."

"We'll watch it for you." Joan responds.

Morgan and Janet head downstairs, and as Spencer and Joan settle at the table, a waiter appears.

"Can I get you anything from the bar?"

Spencer asks, "Would you like some champagne, Joan?"

"Uh, do you have the non-alcohol kind?"

"Yes Miss."

"I'll have a glass of that."

Spencer adds, "The same."

As the waiter walks away, Joan remarks, "You don't have to go non-alcohol just because I am."

"I actually am not much of a drinker. Isn't this a wonderful view?"

Joan looks below and nods her agreement. You can see everything from this spot - the people in their formal attire, the band playing a mix of two slow tunes to every fast one. Joan notes that she is the youngest woman there, but not by much. Although the crowd is mostly in their thirties, there are fair number of twentyish couples.

"So most of these people work for the government?"

"Yes, a case of birds of a feather. Although there are people here from all walks of life, the majority work in federal law enforcement. There are prosecutors from the Justice Department, agents from the F.B.I., DEA, ATF, Homeland Security and U.S. Marshals."

"Sounds like this is the safest place to be in Washington tonight."

The waiter delivers their drinks, and Spencer holds his up for a toast. "To a wonderful evening."

"And the start of a happy new year." Joan says as they clink glasses.

After a sip, Spencer remarks, "Your part of the toast sounded just a touch bitter. Has 2007 been a particularly rough year?"

Joan smiles, doing her best to hide her feelings. She reminds herself to stay alert. Spencer is super smart and is also trained at reading people.

"You could say I've had better years."

"Oh of course, forgive me. For a moment I forgot about the loss of your fiance."

Joan nods, wondering when it will ever be possible to go through a day without thinking of Jimmy. "There's that and...other stuff."

"Job related? Working for Homeland Security must be challenging."

"It's not my job. As I told Janet, I'm a full time pre-law student. I only do part-time consulting work for Homeland Security."

"Yes, you and your mysterious 'psychic' abilities."

Joan winces at this. Of all the topics she didn't want to talk about, this is top of the list.

"So, tell me about your degrees. I recall you said you had three doctorates?"

Spencer smiles. "She said, changing the subject. Yes, as you know I have a doctorate in psychology, but my first two were in chemistry and engineering."

"Oh wait, don't tell me. You were going to be a rocket scientist?"

Spencer nods. "I'll admit that the thought of working for NASA dominated my early academic efforts."

"So what happened?"

"I've always been fascinated by the study of psychology, especially abherent behavior. Once I began a serious study of the subject, I knew I had found what I wanted to do with my life. I was recruited to the Behavorial Analysis Unit by a man named Jason Gideon - my first mentor at the F.B.I., now retired. What I do may seem strange to most people, but I find great satisfaction in making society safer by helping to capture serial arsonists, rapists and murderers. What about you Joan, why the study of law?"

"My heritage, I suppose. My Dad and his father were career cops, and my other grandfather is a lawyer. He really encouraged me to study the law. If I do okay in pre-law and get into law school, I'm thinking of going into prosecution."

"We may work one day as colleagues. Speaking of your father, I see from internet sources in Arcadia he is planning to run for mayor?"

"Yeah, people have been encouraging Dad to run for office ever since he took down the last elected mayor and a bunch of other crooks in a big corruption scandal."

"I remember that. Arcadia became the largest city ever to have its' charter revoked."

"That's Arcadia: 'The Most Corrupt City In America'. At least it was. Since Dad cleaned up the place, things have been a lot better."

"With the exception of the Ryan Hunter scandal."

Joan sighs. She knows Spencer is just trying to engage in friendly chitchat, but he is hitting all of her hot buttons. "Yeah...Ryan is the reason it has taken so long for Arcadia to get out of its' probationary status and back to regular elections. Dad announces his candidacy tomorrow."

"How are his chances?"

"Pretty good, if you can believe the media. 'Honest Will Girardi' is how he is referred to, and most people in Arcadia go along with that. Dad probably won't have anyone challenging him in the primary."

Their conversation continues, drifting from one topic to another, and Joan realizes she is very comfortable with Spencer. He is easy to talk to, attentive and genuinely interested in her beyond his physical attraction for her. Although Spencer tends to run on and on when allowed, he takes no offense when a suggestion is made that he is supplying too much information about any particular subject. (Apparently his friends do this for him on a regular basis.)

After about five dances, Morgan and Janet return. Joan lets them 'purse sit' for her as she and Spencer work their way to the dancefloor. The first dance is a slow one, and Spencer dances in a very formal manner. Joan wishes he would hold her closer, but she is enjoying being in his arms too much to criticize. The next dance is a faster number, and Joan begins to unwind, moving freely around Spencer, enjoying herself. She has always been a bit unihibited when it comes to dancing, and other than being careful not to 'pop-out' of her dress, Joan is completely happy and carefree for the first time in a long while. Spencer openly admires Joan for her freedom of movement, and begins to feel a little flushed as he notices how that amazing dress hugs ever curve of her body.

The next dance is another slow one, and this time Joan takes the inititive and moves in close. Spencer takes the hint and holds her tight. Joan sighs a little as she notices Spencer beginning to loosen up a bit himself...

"I thought you told me you were a mediocre dancer?" Joan remarks.

"When you accepted my invitation to this dance, I began practicing every day."

Joan can tell that it is the truth, and she easily imagines Spencer spending hours each day practicing his dance moves. How sweet.

"You're doing great. I think we have found another hidden talent of yours."

Spencer chuckles, and Joan is glad to hear the sound. Maybe it is because of the harsh realities he has to deal with, but Joan has noticed Spencer doesn't laugh much. For one silly moment, Joan wonders if he is ticklish? I suppose I'll find out when we're...in bed. Whoa, where did that thought come from? I am not...almost certainly not, going to sleep with Spencer on our first date...75 percent guaranteed. Joan can't keep from smiling at this thought, and leans even closer to Spencer... Uh-oh. Apparently I'm not the only one thinking along those lines.

Having danced with boys since her middle school days, Joan is familiar with this...problem. 'Take it as a compliment' is what the guys usually say, and what can you expect from teenaged boys? But really Spencer, you're a grown man. Shouldn't you be in better control of yourself than...wait a minute.

"Spencer, is that large bulge I feel...a gun?"

With a touch of mischief in his eyes, Spencer smiles and replies, "God, I hope so."

Joan giggles for a moment but then looks at Spencer with suspicion. "Why are you packing heat?"

"Joan, I'm an F.B.I. agent. I frequently 'pack heat'."

"Yeah, but on a date at a formal dance? Maybe if you were James Bond... Hey, are you on the job?"

Spencer looks about nervously and whispers, "We need to find a quiet place to talk."

The pair look about and drift toward the closest alcove along the wall. Making sure no one can overhear, Spencer leads Joan into the seclusion of the small space that is mostly hidden by a large potted plant.

"Normally I'm not allowed to discuss matters like this in order to prevent a panic, but since you have top secret clearance with Homeland Security..."

"Spill it, Mr. Profiler. What's going on?"

"About an hour before you arrived, the BAU was informed of a bomb threat to one of the formal dances being held in Washington tonight. We don't know which one is the target, but Homeland Security informs us that the bomber has four shaped charges hidden in suitcases. Other members of my team have been sent to cover the various events, hoping that we might be able to spot trouble in time to act."

"So you're idea of a great date is to let me enter the kill zone?"

"Joan, I never would have let you come tonight if I thought the threat was real. If I did, I would have called and cancelled on some pretext."

"So why are you so sure this isn't for real?"

"The bomb threat came as an anonymous tip. The sad fact is, we receive countless such tips every year and 99 percent of them are hoaxes. I can't imagine why Homeland Security insisted we take this one seriously, but since Morgan and I were already coming to this dance, we volunteered to profile the crowd looking for any potential threat. Neither of us believe there is the slightest risk, and that's why we didn't warn off you or Janet."

"This explains why the two of you are taking turns on the balcony watching the crowd. Well, you can relax. I'm also sure there's no bomber here."

A familiar voice remarks, "That's good to know, Joan."

Joan sighs heavily before turning around to face Issac B. Dunn, the Director of Covert Operations for Homeland Security, and Joan's master in the agency. Behind him is Dunn's bodyguard and flunky, Agent Melvin Brown.

"Hey I.B., never figured you for a party animal. Bold choice, a blue tuxedo."

"Blue...?" Dunn says and then snorts derisively. His complete color blindness is known to Joan.

Joan adds, "Melvin, old buddy, is this the best you could do for a New year's Eve date?"

Brown grunts but says nothing.

Spencer gulps nervously. "Director Dunn..."

"I know you...Dr. Reid, isn't it? You gave a lecture to my senior people on the psychology of the terrorist."

"Yes sir."

"Too bad you've forgotten security protocols. This matter is labeled top secret."

Joan quickly says, "And I have that clearance, so no protocols were violated. But what are you doing here I.B.? Isn't field work below your pay grade?"

"There is a threat to my people. I take that seriously. I wanted to be sure they are safe."

Joan would love to think that I.B. is grandstanding, putting on a show to impress those who work for him, but Joan reads that it isn't so. He is genuinely concerned for the safety of the people who work for him. Annoyingly, Joan can even read his concern for her well being. Damn, just when she thought she had the man pegged in a very small hole...

"Anything to report, Dr. Reid?"

"Agent Derek Morgan and I have been diligently watching every new person who enters, looking for anyone who fits the profile of a potential bomber. No one has even remotely resembled such a profile."

"And you Joan, you confirm in your own unique way this is true?"

"I.B., if there was a bomber here, even in a crowd as large as this, I would know it."

"Very well, I'll take your word for it, Joan. I'll be moving on to the other potential targets. Stay alert, the night is still young. And Dr. Reid, don't let this young woman's nearly naked body distract you from your duties. You are here to protect lives, not gratify your libido."

Dunn walks away, immediately followed two paces behind by Agent Brown. Joan watches and fumes.

"Nearly naked? What does he mean by that crack? There's nothing wrong with the way I'm dressed...is there?"

Spencer shakes his head. "You look wonderful. I'm the envy of every man here, but Director Dunn did make one point. Your beauty is a definite distraction. How will I be able to concentrate on my work with such loveliness before me?"

Joan snickers. "Did Morgan give you that line?"

"All my own, and not a line."

Spencer and Joan share their first kiss of the evening. Joan tries to remind herself she will not be sleeping with Spencer tonight. Seventy percent...

X X X X X

The night progresses with the two couples alternating time on the balcony and time on the dancefloor. Janet begins to find this a little odd, but since no one else seems to object, she remains silent. Besides, Derek Morgan has her complete attention. Spencer manages to whisper to Morgan that Joan is in on their secret, but he takes that in stride. He also confirms that he met Will Girardi a couple of times when they were both cops with the Chicago police.

Back on the balcony for another turn at crowd watching, Spencer and Joan hold hands while watching the people down below.

"The crowd is getting larger." Joan remarks.

"It will continue to do so until about an hour before midnight. Many people do a complete circuit of the various parties and don't chose which one they will stick with until quite late. By midnight there will be well over a thousand people in this room."

"And still no sign of trouble. Looks like you were right, at least about the dance here."

"And you're sure you would detect any...person of interest if he should show up?"

Joan realizes they can't casually use the word 'bomber' without risking a panic. "Very sure. I guess you find that kind of...weird."

"Before I met you Joan, I would have descibed such a possibility as bizarre, and any such person as deluded. Now...well, I still think it's bizarre, but I believe you."

"Thank you. Sometimes, the 'weird' label begins to wear me down."

"I don't think of you like that, Joan. I think you are the most amazing young woman I have ever known."

Joan smiles and leans in for a kiss, one of several they have shared this evening. They seperate slightly, their breaths co-mingling, filled with phermones. Each is intensely aware they are at the begining of something with great potential. Sixty percent...

Spencer sighs and tries to regain control of his hormones. "Uh, if you're getting hungry, there is a late supper buffet in the restraunt."

"Sounds good. We'll skip our next time dancing and chow down." Joan says as she slides her fingers through Spencer's hair. Neither of them is thinking of food.

Spencer looks into Joan's eyes and he feels himself getting lost in them. He wants to know Joan in every possible way...

"Joan, I may regret this, but Morgan gave me some advice before our date..."

"Oh really? Such as?"

"Morgan reserved a room upstairs in case...in case one of us..."

"Got lucky?" Joan asks with an edge to her voice.

"Morgan said you would be insulted if I didn't ask at least once if you would..." Spencer pauses, realizing he has made a tactical error.

Eighty percent. "Spencer, isn't it time you stopped listening to Morgan on the subject of women?"

"But I have observed on numerous occasions that Morgan is very, very successful with women while I...am not."

"And do you know why that is?"

"Because women consider Morgan drop dead gorgeous?"

"Well yeah, but that's not the reason - at least not all of it. Derek Morgan is absolutely confident of his desirability to women. For him, 'Hello' is about all he needs to get most women into his bed."

"Because he is so much better looking than me."

Joan shakes her head. "His looks are only a small part of it. They give him the confidence to be himself. Women see in him not just sex, but sex with a really nice guy...who happens to be drop dead gorgeous. Great combination - it works for him. But if Morgan was a jerk...he'd still get laid, but not nearly as often and not with such a high class of woman like Janet."

"How can you be so sure Morgan is such a nice guy?"

"Earlier, when we were in the ladies room, Janet confided to me that she's taking Morgan home with her tonight."

"How does that mean Morgan is a nice guy?"

"Janet is a local. Morgan didn't need to get a room for whichever one of you got lucky."

"Ah, the light dawns. He got it for me because he knew I would never have the confidence to think of such a thing."

"And that's the lesson you have now learned from Professor Joan. Be confident, be yourself. Don't try to imitate what works for Morgan, you're not him. But, you are a really nice guy, very cute and quite frankly, that giant brain of yours is a helluva turn on."

Spencer blinks a couple of times. "Most women seem to find me boring. I tend to ramble a bit on a wide variety of subjects."

"I'm not saying there isn't room for improvement. A little self editing might come in handy."

"That agrees with Morgan's advice. He also persuaded me not to bring my magic tricks. I was going to try to impress you."

Joan smiles. "Okay, maybe some of Morgan's advice has merit, but I still think you should trust your own instincts more. Ignoring Morgan, how would you handle the rest of this evening?"

"Well, we could continue dancing."

"Sounds good."

"Continue...flirting."

"Even better."

"Then at midnight, we would share a very long, romantic kiss. And if that should lead to passion..."

"Then who knows what might happen?"

Both smiling, the young couple lean in for another kiss, but this one lasts and lasts. Their very romantic kiss comes a couple of hours early. Moans of pleasure escape Joan's lips as she thinks: fifty-fifty. Suddenly Joan freezes. Spencer senses the mood change and pulls back a bit...

"Joan?"

"He's here."

"He...?"

Spencer rises from the table and begins looking around the room below. Joan joins him and knows Spencer will eventually spot the man who fits a bomber's profile, but she knows right where he is. Even if she couldn't sense the evil he has brought into the room, she would still know. To Joan's surprise, she recognizes the man. Joan doesn't know the man's name, but last summer when she was a prisoner of the Brotherhood of American Blood, she saw him in the warehouse where she was held. Back then he was called 'Colonel' - an adviser to General Hobart Smith.

"Far left corner, in front of the last alcove on that side."

"Fellow in the white dinner jacket with the crewcut?"

"That's him. He's a member of the Brotherhood, rank of Colonel."

"How do you know...?"

"Classified."

Spencer nods as he sends a quick text message to Morgan. A couple of minutes later Morgan joins them...

"I sent Janet home in a cab. Told her I wasn't feeling well and that I was going to say goodbye before leaving. What have we got?"

Spencer points out Colonel Whoever and Morgan immediately agrees with the risk assessment.

"This is bad. See how the guy has placed himself in the corner? There's no way to approach him without being spotted." Morgan says.

Spencer adds, "And he hasn't taken his hand out of his left pocket since he got here. Odds are, that's where he has the detonator device. If Joan is correct, and this 'Colonel' is a part of the failed Brotherhood movement, he may be on a martyr's mission."

Joan asks, "Can't you get these people out of here? Maybe fake a fire alarm?"

Morgan shakes his head. "The moment anything suspicious starts to happen, that guy will trigger his bombs. If only we knew where they were."

Joan replies, "Upstairs in four different rooms."

Spencer asks, "How do you know?"

"You said he had four suitcase bombs. Those four pillars may be covered in fancy panelling, but they're really steel reinforced concrete. They hold up the central core of the building."

Morgan nods. "She's right, but those bombs could be on any of the floors above. If that guys sets them off, half of the hotel will come crashing in on us. He must be using either a radio device or a cell phone to trigger the bombs. What is he waiting for?"

Joan replies, "The biggest bang for his buck."

Spencer says, "Joan is right. He wants to take as many people as possible with him, so he will probably wait for when the crowd is largest - right at midnight."

"That gives us time. We could set up an electronic jammer that would block all signals." Morgan suggests.

"He might be in constant contact with the bombs. Any interruption in the signal could trigger the explosions. Sniper?"

"Same problem. The Colonel might have a dead man's switch rigged. His dying would set off the bombs. Or we might just be second guessing ourselves. Maybe there is no triggering device. It might be old fashioned timers, or any of another dozen possibilities. Without more information, we can't know the best course of action. We may have to take our best guess and hope we get lucky."

Joan sighs. She knows what she has to do and hates it.

"Follow my lead. When you see your moment, take it."

Morgan begins, "What do you..."

But Joan is already on her way downstairs. She focuses on the man in the far corner, excluding all other sources of distraction. It is known as sexual charisma, an ability taught to her by her tutor in a know-your-enemy lesson. Joan is the first instrument of God ever to use it for the good side because it causes so much distress to the soul. Joan reaches out with her spirit to the soul of the other man. It requires a lot of concentration, but soon Joan makes contact. She begins to stroke the man's libido, arousing him like a teenage boy with his first copy of Playboy. The man reacts with confusion at first. He is very focused on his mission, and his instincts fight against this sudden influx of passion. But he can not resist, and soon he is looking about the room, searching for the source of his arousal. He spots Joan and instantly becomes fixated upon her. At first, this is like another 'wow' moment for Joan, but from there it quickly becomes creepy.

Joan reaches the main level and begins casually strolling about the room. Too direct of an approach might break the mood, and Joan definitely wants the Colonel using only small head thinking. Joan can sense his every desire, and they are soon straying into disgusting, depraved fantasies. It takes all of Joan's willpower not to let this affect her concentration. Slowly, Joan makes her way around the room until she seemingly just happens to notice the Colonel...

"Why hello, it seems we are the only two people here tonight who are unattached."

"I - I came stag."

"Lucky me, I was getting so bored." Joan says as she comes closer.

The Colonel looks her up and down with growing interest. His devotion to the cause, his willingness to sacrifice his own life, all but forgotten. "If you're looking for some excitement..."

He indicates the nearby alcove with its' relative privacy. Joan gives the naughtiest smile she can muster...

"We'll have to be quiet and quick."

"I can do quick."

Joan takes him by his right hand and leads the Colonel into the alcove. At once he is all over her, kissing her hard and groping her breasts with both hands. It is only a moment before Morgan has the man tackled and in handcuffs. Spencer quickly searches for the detonation device...

"I can't find it!"

Joan murmurs, "I already have it."

While the Colonel was distracted with both hands free, Joan picked his pocket. As they thought, it is a common cell phone. Morgan takes the phone while Joan shudders with disgust. The aftereffects of sexual charisma always include a sense of self-loathing as Joan feels as if her soul is filthy. Any amorous thoughts are gone, for if any man touched her now, Joan's flesh would crawl. Sorry Spencer, but not tonight...

Spencer. Joan looks over to her date, and now that the excitement of the arrest is over, he is thinking clearly. Dr. Spencer Reid is an expert on human behavior, and he knows a man like the Colonel doesn't abandon a kamikaze mission just for a quickie with a woman he spotted only a couple of minutes before. What Joan has done is...unnatural. It is a level on manipulation that the human soul, with its' gift of free will, finds abhorant. Joan sees the look in Spencer's eyes, and even though he tries to hide it, and she knows he will never look at her the same as before. He will never be able to trust that she isn't manipulating him. Joan sees...revulsion.

X X X X X

After a very fast drive home, Joan pulls up in front of the Girardi house. She notices the Volvo isn't there, but why should it be - Mom and Dad will still be at the New Year's Eve party at the Hotel Wentworth. There are still a couple of minutes to go before midnight. Joan exits her truck and heads for the house. She is dressed in the spare clothes she brought with her. The expensive dress she abandoned in the ladies room of the Hotel Panamanian. After the arrest, the Colonel was quietly hurried out of the hotel, and virtually none of the party guests noticed anything unusual. There were demands for post-action reports, paperwork and interviews about what happened, but Joan was still too distressed to co-operate. Fortunately, and Joan never thought she would use that word concerning I.B., Director Dunn showed up, saw how upset Joan was and gave her permission to leave on his authority. He would deal with the F.B.I. and their endless questions.

Joan enters the house feeling exhausted and depressed. The drive home gave her time to think about her life (fortunately there were no state cops monitoring traffic going out of Washington). Joan feels a great sadness about the loss of Spencer Reid. He might not have been the next true love of her life, but he was a nice, cute guy that she really liked. He would have made a great boyfriend...and possibly, lover. Yes, all kidding aside, she had been planning to sleep with him all along.

Joan sees the scene in the living room. E.T. is asleep in her playpen, Luke and Grace are asleep on the couch and Annie, with the remote in her hand, has the sound on the TV turned down low. She is waiting for the traditional countdown to the end of the year. Annie spots her aunt, waves and places a finger to her lips. She kindly doesn't want to disturb her sleeping parents. Joan waves back and heads for the kitchen. She trusts that when the night's 'excitement' is over, Annie will gently awaken Luke and Grace.

In the kitchen, Joan considers a snack - she hasn't eaten since midday, but she is too depressed to face food. Another guy gone from her life, and this one over with before they could really get started. Joan sees the pattern in her life, and wonders if it is a sign. Adam, Dylan, Jimmy and now Spencer - all gone to some degree because of her connection to God. What if she isn't meant to be with someone? She has free will, but how many times must she go down this path of heartbreak before she learns her lesson? Joan is an instrument of God, and maybe that means she should be alone so she can dedicate herself to serving. Isn't that what is recommended in the bible? Dating, sex, marriage and so on are too much of a distraction in her line. She could resign, but Joan has gone that route before. She knows the work is too important to walk away from. Tonight, she saved hundreds of lives...and all it cost her was another boyfriend.

Tears begin to plop from Joan's eyes as she contemplates a future alone. The demands on her time are growing, especially with the new ability God wants her to learn. She will never have time for dating or a husband or a child...even if she is still capable of having one. It is time to face her harsh reality. Put aside her hormonal yearnings, forget about a man in her life and focus on serving. That's all she has left, and it should be enough. Anything else would be selfish on her part...wouldn't it?

Joan decides against eating. Just go upstairs, set your alarm for your morning workout session and focus on being an instrument of God. On being that weird girl who will never know love, who will always be...alone. Joan looks over to the wine rack and almost without thinking, she grabs a bottle with her right hand, then after only the briefest hesitation, a second bottle with her left hand. As Joan slowly climbs the backstairs, she faintly hears the sound of Annie counting down the last few seconds of 2007.

To Be Continued. Please review.

(What a rough year for Joan. Maybe 2008 will be better?)


	3. Chapter 3

2008

1-1-08/Tuesday morning.

Elaine Lishack awakens early, as is her habit, because her daughter Emily is always an early riser who is eager to get a quick start on her day. Today is different than most days. There is a man sharing Elaine's bed. Elaine looks over at the sleeping Dr. John Hunter and smiles – barely resisting the urge to touch him. Elaine studies her lover's face (a very handsome one) and feels a sensation of emotional bliss she hasn't known since her early college days when a relationship meant more than just satisfying physical desire. She has not felt like this since she was recruited to be a spy at 19.

Elaine remembers her exciting espionage days with a lot of regrets. Not about the work they did – the agency spared the world a lot of pain and death by regularly defeating its' enemies. No, the regrets rest with the sacrifices that had to be made to accomplish those victories. Her agency had an old-fashioned approach to women spies. They were recruited as much for their beauty as for their brains, and they were fully expected to play the role of a Mata Hari when the occasion demanded. Agent 66 became a very jaded but successful seducer and exploiter of men, playing on their egos and pathetic weaknesses. Even when not on duty, Elaine indulged in a cynically wild lifestyle of physical excess for she constantly lived in a wartime mentality – eat, drink and be 'merry' for tomorrow, or today or in the next minute, you die.

When the work and lifestyle began to cause her to crack, Agent 66 accepted that she could handle the business of spy no more. She retired with the thanks of a grateful nation and the new identity of Elaine Lishack, quirky science teacher, was created. It was a difficult transition, especially in her personal life. Lovers became less frequent, but Elaine continued to see men as either potential enemies or temporary playthings. Not that she didn't have fond memories of some of the men in her life, but the list of: "What was I thinking?" is much longer. Near the top of that list is Issac B. Dunn, a bitter ex who never forgave her for breaking his heart.

Dana Tuchman definitely is at the top of the list of former loves she thinks of fondly, mostly because he is Emily's father. Truthfully, if Elaine hadn't gotten pregnant, their relationship would have disappeared a long time ago. But now, to her amazement, Elaine has found a new man who actually stirs hope within her. Hope for a normal life – a family type life. There is something different about John, something so good and real that for the first time in many years, Elaine is willing to risk her heart on a man.

Although they have been lovers for only a few days, Elaine knows she is in deep with John and finds herself desperately hoping he feels the same way. Two good signs: one, when it came time for Elaine to return to Arcadia, John hastily scheduled a vacation to accompany her and two, Emily instantly liked and accepted John. This also seemed amazing to Elaine since her daughter never takes to people right off, but John captivated her. Perhaps this was because John had the experience of becoming a stepfather to his late wife's daughter when little Barbara was only two. Emily turns two next month. Not that Elaine is seriously thinking that far ahead…is she?

John suddenly stirs… "Oh God!"

"John? What's wrong?"

"I…had a dream."

"One of those prophetic ones?"

John Hunter nods and gathers his thoughts. Elaine is still trying to adjust to the idea that her new boyfriend has this odd ability, and has been nervous about discussing the matter with him.

"We were downtown, in front of the city building, attending a rally for Will Girardi's announcement of his run for mayor. We were pretty far back in the crowd, and we were focused on Will's speech. There was a gunshot and people began screaming and running in all directions."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"I'm not sure. There was too much confusion and the dream ended shortly after that."

"John, did you see who the shooter was?"

"Only from the back. It was a young girl, a teenager, dressed all in black. I can't identify her."

"Should we call the police?"

From long experience Dr. Hunter shakes his head no. "The police don't respond well to claims of prophetic dreams. They do tend to respond to anonymous messages if there are enough details included. We have to buy a disposable phone and send the cops a warning."

"I'll get Emily up and we can go to the nearest convenience store."

Dr. Hunter nods his agreement, and as Elaine leaves the bedroom, he checks the time. Too early to call the Girardi household, but he will definitely be passing on this warning to Joan and Helen Girardi. He can't tell Elaine this detail without violating confidentiality, that he knows so many secrets about the people who live in the house on Euclid Avenue.

X X X X X

Grace Girardi's astral form has travelled only a short distance from the Girardi home, to a house a few blocks east of Arcadia High. It is an ordinary middle class place that Grace is unfamiliar with. Grace comes to rest in the back yard and looks about with curiosity. There appears to be nothing of interest going on, and Grace realizes by the rising sun she will be waking up soon, ending this experience. Since she travels in real time, Grace knows that whatever God wants Grace to see must be about to happen.

Suddenly one of the rear windows of the house opens and a blonde teenaged girl slips out, making as little noise as possible. The girl is dressed in a black hoodie and black denim, and she seems very nervous. Grace smiles, reminded of her own high school years when she use to frequently slip out of the house, although her own sneaking out was usually done at night.

The girl carefully looks around, wary of being caught. Satisfied no one is watching, the girl hurries to an old tool shed near the edge of the property. She ducks behind the shed into a narrow space between the wood fence and the back wall of the shed. Grace follows, wondering why God has her watching this odd girl. Grace observes as the girl begins shifting a pile of bricks to the side, quickly moving them one by one. The last brick is removed, revealing a hole with a plastic box inside. Grace watches closely, figuring what is inside the box is the key to this experience.

The girl opens the box, smiling at what she sees inside. From her angle, Grace can not yet see the contents, but obviously what is inside is of utmost importance to the girl. What will it be - drugs? Stolen loot? A diary full of teenaged angst? The girl pauses and looks right at Grace, almost as if she were aware of Grace's ghost-like presence. Ridiculous. No one is able to know Grace is there when she astral travels...

In a very familiar voice the girl cries out, "Mama?"

Instantly, Grace is awake. Normally no exterior stimulus can awaken Grace from her astral travel state, but somehow the cry of distress from her child has gotten through. Graces notes that Luke is still asleep, but Annie is awake, trembling and with tears in her eyes.

"Mama...?" Annie repeats.

"Annie, what's wrong?"

"Bad dream."

Grace takes Annie into her arms and wipes away her tears. Annie hugs her tightly. Annie may officially be Daddy's Little Girl, but when life bumps hard, their daughter always turns to her mother for comforting. Grace gently rocks Annie.

"It's okay sweetie, you're safe. You're right here with daddy and me, and nothing can hurt you. Do you remember we told you that dreams are just your mind playing make-believe while you're asleep?" (Annie nods.) "And nothing that's make-believe can harm or touch you. Do you want to tell me your dream?"

Annie vigorously shakes her head 'no'. "S-Scary."

"That's okay, you don't have to talk about it. You hold on to me and see if you can go back to sleep."

Annie rests her head on Grace's shoulder, but she is afraid to go back to sleep. Such a bad dream... Grandpa Will was speaking to a large crowd of happy, cheering people and the whole family was gathered around him. Suddenly there was a loud, frightening sound followed by a spray of blood... Annie shudders.

"Mama, can we stay home today?"

"No Annie, this is Grandpa Will's special day. Remember, we talked about it? We all have to go, including your Aunt E.T., I mean Eleanor. Try to get along with her if you can. Your Aunt Joan will be looking after Eleanor, so the two of you won't have to get too close to each other."

Annie shakes her head. "No Mama, Aunt Joan sick."

"What do you mean?"

"She hurts here and here." Annie replies, touching her head and tummy. "And...she smells funny."

"Funny how?"

"Like the red stuff Grandpa and Grandma sometimes drink."

Grace frowns as she realizes what Annie is telling her. Joan has been drinking again.

"Annie, when did you last see your Aunt Joan?"

"Last night. When the TV was counting - three, two, one...happy?"

"New Year." Grace automatically says. Oh God, Joan must have driven home from her date drunk!

Annie gives a big yawn, settles her head back on Grace's shoulder and in a moment she is asleep again. Grace looks at her prescious daughter and remembers her own difficult childhood. Her earliest memories are terrifying ones of her own mother staggering around drunk with a bottle of wine in her hand. Fortunately Sarah Polonsky has been sober for over two years and Grace has no problem with Annie being around her Mom. But Joan... Grace feels her anger rise. She will not let Annie be exposed to this!

X X X X X

Helen Girardi awakens and silently slips out of bed, being careful not to disturb Will...

"I'm awake."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. I never fell asleep."

"You've been up all night?"

Will sighs. "I've been staring at the ceiling wondering if I'm making the biggest mistake of my life, or my best career move ever."

Helen smiles. "You'll know one year from today when you're sworn in as the new mayor."

"With a major bump in pay, which we will desperately need by then. But if I lose...we may be ruined financially. It's going to be a full year before I draw another paycheck."

"We've been over this Will. We have our savings, my commissions from portrait work and worse case scenario, we sell the house to get the equity we've built up."

"Still, it's a helluva risk we're taking at our age and with a new baby. I don't relish the idea of starting over as an ex-cop in his fifties trying to find work."

"Then I guess you better win. I know you have my vote."

"Now, if I can only be sure of my own. What do I know about running a city?"

"What does any new mayor know until he does it? Besides, it looks like your only opponet will be some local businessman who has never held office either."

"Cyrus Cornwall, a real estate developer. The word I hear is that he will be unopposed in his party's primary too."

"Well, I've never heard of him while the whole town knows 'Honest Will Girardi', the hero that brought down Arcadia's corrupt leaders. You're a shoo in."

Will smiles and gives Helen a kiss. "From your mouth to God's ears."

X X X X X

Luke and Kevin Girardi sip coffee in the kitchen while Annie drinks milk from her sippy cup...

"Thanks for the doughnuts Kev."

"I figured everyone would be in too much of a rush to bother with breakfast. Is it okay to give Annie one?"

Luke smiles. "Oh, I seem to recall Annie has a slight fondness for doughnuts."

Kevin holds out the box of mixed doughnuts to his niece. "What do you say, Annie - see anything you like?"

Annie's eyes go wide with excitement as she ponders this rare treat. In the face of such a temptation, she forgets Yah-Yah's instruction to warn her grandparents not to go downtown today...

"Chocolate!"

Luke laughs. "Just like her mother."

Kevin places a chocolate doughnut in front of Annie while Luke makes sure her bib is secured. This is going to be messy. Annie picks up the doughnut with both hands and dives in. As she happily chews a big bite, Luke and Kevin smile as Annie's face is now half covered in chocolate icing.

Kevin wathces Annie and sighs. "I've got to get me one of these."

"A kid?"

"I didn't mean doughnut."

"But I thought Barbara was against the idea of having children, at least any time soon."

"She is, but I haven't poured on the Girardi charm yet. I know I'm only 23, but it feels like my biological clock is ticking. I can't get having a kid off of my brain."

Luke nods. "Lots of people feel that way after spending time with Annie. All of my friends at college and every neighbor is eager to babysit, but remember, there aren't many toddlers as smart and adorable as my daughter."

"He modestly says."

Luke grins. "I think I'm being fairly objective. I know no one offers to babysit our sister."

"I'll assume you didn't mean Joan, although there are times I think she could use a babysitter. I saw her truck was out front, so she made it back safe and sound from her date. Any news on that front?"

Luke shrugs. "Haven't seen her since yesterday, but I'll assume everything went okay. If she got in really late, it may be hard to get her up."

"And miss Dad being Grand Marshal in the New Year's Day parade? Joan would never miss that. She'll be up."

X X X X X

Helen exits Joan's room holding two empty wine bottles. The serious concern on Helen's face is obvious...

"Is she drunk again?" Grace asks.

Helen nods as she holds a finger to her lips. "Grace please, let's keep this quiet. I don't want Will to know. He has enough on his mind already."

"How bad is it?"

"Joan is passed out. I wonder what went wrong last night? Joan hasn't touched a drop in months."

"Hard to say, but it's a bad sign that she turns to booze whenever life gives her a hard knock. You don't think this F.B.I. creep she dated hurt her?"

Helen shakes her head. "Joan can take care of herself, at least physically. But emotionally, she's been in a fragile condition for a long time."

Grace quietly 'humphs' a little. She has little room for the excuses of drunks. "How do you want to handle this?"

"I'll tell Will that Joan is sick and needs to sleep. Hopefully he won't be curious until we are about to leave. But...someone needs to stay and take care of Joan. Grace..."

"No problem. I'll be glad to see that Joan 'gets what she needs'."

X X X X X

An hour later, Grace is alone in the house with Joan. Will and Helen had to leave first, so he didn't realize Joan wouldn't be joining the rest of the family. Shortly after that, Luke with Annie and Kevin with E.T. left - E.T. was fussy about this near stranger taking care of her, but it was a done deal before she had time to fully express her displeasue. Now on her own, Grace heads upstairs with a bucket in one hand and a glass of ice water in the other. Grace enters Joan's room without knocking and sees her sister-in-law has fallen out of bed. Joan snores...

"Wake up!" Grace shouts as she flings the ice water into Joan's face.

"Ahh...what the...? Ow." Joan mumbles as she grabs her head.

"Get up off of the floor." Grace orders.

Automatically Joan tries to comply, but Grace has to help her get back into bed.

"Grace...? What...?"

"You're drunk again. And guess who got the job of cleaning up after you?"

"Go away...feel awful." Joan says as she closes her eyes. (Grace shakes Joan vigorously.) "Stop that! Why are you being so mean?"

"Because Annie saw you in this condition. I'm not going to allow that. I won't let my daughter be exposed to some lousy drunk who doesn't know better than to allow a little kid to see her in this state."

"Didn't...didn't see Annie. Drank in here, alone."

"Then how does Annie know you're sick? Hung over? She says she hasn't seen you since last night, which means you must have been drunk when you got home. Then you added two more bottles of wine on top of that!"

"Noo... Didn't drink until I was home." Joan softly replies.

"Then how does my daughter know about the condition you're in?"

Joan, trying to fall asleep, mumbles, "Maybe Yah-Yah told her."

Joan drifts off, but Grace grabs her by the collar, pulls her up and slaps Joan hard across the face.

"Ow! Grace, what the hell...?"

"Do you think this is a JOKE? Do you think this is FUNNY? How dare you let Annie see you like this! You pathetic drunken bitch!"

Joan frowns, trying to think as she finally realizes how mad Grace is. "Grace, no, I didn't - I swear. Please..."

"Save it, I'm not interested. You hear me Girardi, listen! If you ever, EVER get drunk in front of my kid again, I will never let you anywhere near her, not ever! Even if we have to live in Boston full time, I won't let you near her. Do you understand me?"

"Grace..."

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Yes..." Joan pleads, tears running down her cheeks.

Grace grunts, satisfied and feeling a little guilty about being so harsh with Joan. She tosses the plastic bucket onto the bed.

"You're responsible for any messes you make. I'm going downtown. In case you forgot, this is an important day for the family. You should be ashamed."

Grace exits, but changes her mind about slamming the door. She is sure she got her message across.

As Grace heads downstairs, Joan covers her face with her hands and cries. She can't bring herself to be mad at Grace, especially knowing what her childhood with her mother was like. Besides, Grace is right. Even though Annie didn't see her drunk, she is more sensitive and alert to things that are wrong around her. Annie must have sensed a...'disturbance in the force' and asked Yah-Yah about it. Grace can't be blamed, and at least her tutor didn't wake her up. There's no telling what he might have done - something a lot worse than cold water...

Joan looks to the window, shielding her eyes from the glare. There he is, a 25 foot tall warrior for God, staring angrily at his student. Joan moans as she feels his...disappointment. The angel turns and walks away. It looks like she is disappointing a lot of people: Annie, Grace, her tutor, Dad...

Joan fumbles on the bedside table until she finds her phone. Her eyes are too bleary to see clearly, but she manages to hit one of her speed dial numbers... "Friedman, I need your help."

X X X X X

It took all of Joan's willpower, but she managed to get out of bed and to the bathroom. One glance in the mirror makes her wince. It's hard to imagine she is the same young woman who was turning heads at last night's dance. Joan knows she must hydrate, but she also knows the consequences. Tying her hair back, Joan lifts the toilet lid. Joan fills a paper drink cup with warm water (Cold would lead to horrible cramps.) Joan takes a deep breath and swallows half of the water. Instantly she is vomiting into the toilet. This goes on for awhile, but fortunately Joan has no food in her. Breathing hard, Joan swallows the rest of the water, and again she vomits.

"Oh God..." Joan moans in misery.

Joan fills the cup again with warm water and rinses out her mouth. Cautiously, she takes a sip. Her stomach churns, but this time the water stays down. Joan realizes how thirsty she is, but resists the urge to chug as much water as she can. One sip at a time. Joan hears someone on the stairs, and a moment later hears a voice call out...

"Hello...?"

"In the bathroom, Friedman."

"Found the hide-a-key, just where you..." Friedman stops as he sees Joan's condition. "Wow, somebody partied in the new year."

"I wish. At least then I'd have a good excuse for being like this. Did you bring the supplies?" Joan asks as she points at the bag Friedman is holding.

"Everything you need to alleviate your worse symptoms, and we're lucky I got there when I did. After last night, there was a run on all of this stuff. Okay, what's first?"

"Shower." Joan says as she closes the toilet lid and sags to a sitting position.

"Hot or cold?"

"As hot as it will go. I need the steam."

Friedman starts the shower while Joan sips more water. Her head throbs and her stomach rebels, but she forces herself to go on.

"Next?"

"Clothes..." Joan says as she trys to stand but flops back to the toilet lid. Friedman quickly steadies her.

"Easy there. You rest and I'll lay something out for you."

Joan nods, never thinking she would ever let Friedman pick out her clothes, but she is in no position to argue. As Friedman heads for her bedroom, Joan refills her water and rummages through the bag of supplies until she finds the aspirin. Damn child proof lids... Finally managing to open the bottle, Joan swallows four of the aspirin and rests, enjoying the steam that is filling the room. Friedman returns.

"I hope you like what I picked out. You don't need help getting in the shower...right?"

"I'll be fine." Joan says as she stands...and then falls.

Friedman catches her and sighs. "Joan, you're still too drunk to try this. Maybe you should try sleeping a few more hours?"

With Friedman holding her upright, Joan tearfully replies, "No, I have to be there for my Dad's speech. I'll never forgive myself if I'm not there next to him when he makes his announcement."

Friedman sees the pleading in his friend's eyes. How can he deny Joan anything when she saved his brother's life just a few days ago?

"Okay, I'll steady you and help when you need it."

Standing behind her, Friedman keeps Joan upright as she unuttons and removes her shirt and jeans. She sits again on the toilet lid as he removes her socks for her. Friedman removes his own shirt but Joan doesn't need an explantion - he doesn't want to get soaked by her shower. Both standing, Friedman unhooks Joan's bra...

"Don't look."

"I swear I won't."

The bra falls to the floor followed by Joan's panties. True to his word, Friedman keeps his eyes tightly shut, but he is intensely aware of Joan's naked flesh. Moving unsteadily, Joan steps into the shower and lets the water spray her while Friedman holds on to one of her arms. It isn't a long shower, but Joan begins to feel a little better by the time she steps out, still aided by an eyes-shut Friedman. She grabs a towel and wraps it around her and adds a second one for her hair...

"Okay."

Friedman opens his eyes and grins. "That was the longest ten minutes of my life."

"Thank you."

Friedman nods and helps Joan to her bedroom. She sits on the bed and nods her approval of the clothes Friedman has ready for her.

"Can you manage on your own?"

"I think so, but stay near the door in case I need help."

Friedman exits, but leaves the door ajar so he can hear Joan. Joan dries off and very slowly begins to dress in a midi jeans skirt and long sleeved peasant blouse. All white selections on underwear and socks, and knee high suede boots complete the outfit. Huh, when did Friedman get such good taste? Feeling exhausted, Joan calls out...

"Ready."

Friedman helps Joan to her makeup table and watches as she makes a valiant effort to comb her hair and make herself look halfway presentable.

"You look...nice."

"Liar. But I appreciate the sentiment. I guess I need to go now."

"Joan, you're not ready. You can barely stand on your own. Besides, the New Year's Day parade is still going on. It will be nearly two hours before your dad makes his speech. Rest some more and I promise to get you there on time."

"Okay, but not here. If I lay down and fall asleep again, you may not be able to wake me."

"Okay, living room couch."

Leaning on Friedman's arm, Joan makes it to the rail chair and travels downstairs. Settled on the couch, Friedman digs into the bag of supplies and gets a small oxygen cylinder for Joan. As she breathes deeply, Friedman goes to make coffee. Joan uses the remote to turn the TV to WPFK, and watches the parade. Joan smiles when she sees her Mom and Dad riding in the back of a convertible that is labelled 'Grand Marshal'. Will looks very distinguished in his dress uniform, and the crowd cheers for the man they assume will be the next mayor.

Friedman returns with coffee, and after a couple of sips, Joan sighs.

"Feeling better?"

"Some. The oxygen is helping a lot, but my stomach is still queasy."

"There's a bottle of the pink stomach medicine in the bag. Joan...do you want to talk about it?"

"You mean, why I got drunk? Because I was feeling so miserable, and I wanted it to stop."

"Luke told me you were going on your first date since losing Jimmy. I'm guessing it went badly?"

"Very."

"Then the guy is a jerk."

"No, he's not. The problem is me. I had to do something that freaked him out, but it was just a matter of time before he dumped me. Sooner or later my being an instrument of God ruins every relationship with guys."

Friedman nods. "You do have a major league weird vibe."

"Gee thanks."

"I'm sorry, but it's true. The weird thing has been a part of you for as long as I've known you. Only your hot looks and my horndog ways kept me hanging around you as much as I did."

"Why Friedman, is there a compliment hidden in there?"

"Just the simple truth. You were always one of the prettiest girls at Arcadia High, but because of the weirdness, almost no guy would bother asking you out."

"You did."

"I was friends with Luke and a fellow sub-defective, so I learned to accept and look beyond the weird thing."

"Until I told you the truth."

"Yeah, that definitely threw me. Not even my intense desire to get into your pants could stand up to knowing you were an actual instrument of God."

Joan playfully smacks Friedman in the back of the head. "That's for the 'get in my pants' remark, but you're right. What I am is always going to ruin any potential relationship. It's time to accept that I will have to live my life alone."

"Joan, that's so sad. You're going to be celibate forever?"

Joan hesitates. "Well...my libido might force me to try the occasional casual encounter. Simple sex with a guy before he can zero in on how different I am."

"Dangerous, hooking up with a stranger. You might go home with an axe murderer."

"Not when you can read souls. Of course on a day like this, you could be Jack the Ripper and I'd never know it."

"I remember you once said the more you indulge the physical side..."

"The weaker the spiritual side gets. I definitely overindulged the physical, and it will be awhile before I can read anyone again. Hopefully I won't need to today...

X X X X X

At police headquarters, Will Girardi has changed into a new suit, handed in his sidearm and officially signed his resignation papers. With a heavy sigh, he goes about the office saying goodbye to people he has worked with for years. He comes to Captain Toni Chadwick, newly promoted to chief detective of the Arcadia Police.

"Chief, I'm glad I caught you before you left."

Will smiles. "Don't call me 'Chief', Captain. I'm a civilian now."

"I just wanted to know if you got any of my messages?"

Will holds up his phone. "Message box full. Hundreds of people have been calling to leave good luck messages. Every phone in the family is the same way."

"Then I'll tell you in person. This morning we received an anonymous text message about a potential shooter in the crowd today."

"And the crackpots come out right on schedule."

"Will, we need to take this serious. I've arranged for extra security to be mingling through the crowd looking for the described but unnamed shooter."

"If there is one. Did you clear this with the new police chief?"

"Chief Johnson was eager to sign on board. If for no other reason, he's grateful for the promotion."

"Johnson has a good record and was the senior man in line for the job. I would have preferred to pick you Toni..."

"But I only recently made it to captain. Of course Johnson retires in just over a year, right after you take office as the new mayor."

Will grins. "And then I can pick whoever I want for police chief, assuming I win."

"You will. There's at least a thousand cops who are looking forward to voting for you."

"Then I guess I better get this campaign started. And Toni, let's not mention this shooter nonsense to Helen. No need to worry her."

X X X X X

On the top steps of the Arcadia city building, microphones have been set up, and a surprisingly large police presence is only allowing a few trusted campaign workers and the Girardi family in the area behind the mikes. Helen is there already and smiles as she looks about at the large, enthusiastic crowd of supporters, many of whom are carrying signs supporting Will. With her family all gathered about her (including Joan, to her surprise), Helen beams with pride. From the top of the steps, she can see Will crossing the street from police headquarters toward the crowd. Even though Helen knows Will has a copy of his speech in his jacket pocket, Helen has an extra copy in her purse. Time to start her new position as a politician's wife.

At the far edge of the crowd, Dr. John Hunter and Elaine Lishack desperately search the crowd for any sign of a teenage girl in a black hoodie...

"Damn, it looks like half the kids here are wearing black hoodies!" John exclaims.

"It's a popular choice, and the crowd is filled with teenagers because the local schools have been pushing the need for young people to get involved so that corruption never again arises in Arcadia."

"Not to mention it's a presidential year, and all of the candidates are encouraging participation by the young. There must be at least a couple of dozen teenaged girls wearing black hoodies. I never saw the girl's face in my dream!"

"But apparently your text message to the police worked. There are lots of extra cops here, and they're begining to check all of the girls in black hoodies."

John Hunter nods, hoping that will be enough. His many messages to Helen and Joan Girardi have gone unanswered. He can't get near the family because of the police protection, but then he is surprised when he spots Kevin standing next to Joan. Quickly, John dials Kevin's number...

Standing with the rest of his family, Kevin is amused that his stand-offish baby sister is now clinging to him. E.T. doesn't like strangers, and this large crowd of people is overwhelming to her. Kevin may be new to her, but he is close and somewhat familiar. E.T. buries her face in her oldest brother's chest, seeking protection. Kevin looks down at his sister and smiles. For the first time he begins to feel a close bond of family with this normally grumpy child. As he looks out over the crowd, Kevin feels pride for his family. Five years ago they had never heard of Arcadia, and now Dad is going to be the next mayor - assuming Cyrus Cornwall presents no threat. (As a former reporter, Kevin notes that the press turnout for his Dad's speech is a little light. Cornwall is making a similar announcement at the Hotel Wentworth at the same time, and he is supplying the press a lunch buffet and an open bar. It helps to be rich, especially in politics.) Kevin's phone rings...

Kevin smiles at the caller i.d. "Hello John..."

"Kevin, I need to speak to Joan."

"John, we're a litle busy. My Dad is about to..."

"I know, I'm in the crowd."

"You're in Arcadia?"

"Kevin, put Joan on the phone!"

Kevin shrugs and hands his phone to Joan. "John Hunter for you."

Hiding behind dark glasses and trying to keep her stomach still, Joan reluctantly takes the phone. "Hey Doc..."

Joan listens to John Hunter's hasty warning and she goes pale. Normally she could easily pick out someone with such a violent intent, even in a crowd this large, but not today. Joan looks desperately about, trying to spot one teenaged girl out of so many.

"People of Arcadia..." Will begins.

Joan spots her. Standing close to the front, the girl with the look of insane rage on her face steps out from behind a couple of large men and takes aim with a revolver. Joan doesn't hesitate. With great reflexes and surprisng speed, Joan leaps onto her Dad, knocking him over just as the shot rings out. Father and daughter land hard on the concrete, but Joan knows she has saved her Dad. People are screaming and begining to run about in panic, but that is to be expected. Then Joan sees the blood.

"Mom!"

To Be Continued. Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

GIVING UP

1-1-08/Tuesday afternoon, Hogan County Hospital...

The stretcher bursts through the emergency room doors, attended by two paramedics…

"Gunshot victim, female aged 47, heavy bleeding from a right shoulder wound. B.P. 90 over 60, pulse 45 and thready. Labored breathing."

"Trauma room one, type and match for blood."

Helen Girardi, pale and breathing hard under an oxygen mask, is wheeled into a room where a medical team is already waiting for their patient. A minute later, a police escort leads the Girardi family Volvo to the emergency entrance. The entire family rushes inside while one of the uniformed officers kindly parks the car for the family. Even as the Volvo pulls away, the first of the TV news vans arrives…

"Keep those jackals out of here." Will orders.

"You got it, Chief." One of the uniformed officers replies.

For a moment the family looks about, wondering what to do next. The hospital's administrator approaches…

"Will, I'm so sorry to hear the news. Be assured Helen is receiving the finest medical care available in the city."

"Thank you Dr. Presley." Will responds, familiar with this woman in her additional role as a city council member.

"Obviously it is too soon to give you any news, but I promise we will have a preliminary report within the next 20 minutes. In the meantime, we have set aside a waiting room just for you and your family."

Will and the rest of the stunned Girardi family follow Dr. Presley to a large, comfortable room just down the corridor. With a last word of encouragement and support Dr. Presley exits, leaving the Girardis sitting alone. Will watches the corridor, seeming to compel through sheer willpower, someone to come forth with good news. Joan sits alone in a corner feeling guilty. This is her fault. If she hadn't gotten drunk, if she had been on her game, that crazy teenager with the revolver never would have gotten near her family.

Kevin sits next to his father, ready to offer whatever moral support he can. E.T. sleeps peacefully in Kevin's arms. In another corner, Luke, Grace and Annie sit as a group. Luke and Grace are silent and unmoving, but Annie looks about with curiosity. She can sense the mood of the room and begins to feel guilty. This is all her fault…

"Daddy, I'm sorry."

"About what, Annie?"

"For forgetting. I was suppose to tell Grandma not to go – that Yah-Yah said so."

Grace sighs. "Annie, not now. None of us are in the mood to listen to stories about your imaginary friend."

Annie nods, knowing her Mama doesn't like hearing about Yah-Yah. Besides, it is too late now. Grandma is hurt and it's all her fault. Annie begins to softly weep.

Grace notices and takes her daughter into her arms. "Sweetie, it's okay. Your Grandma Helen is going to be alright."

Annie nods, but her tears continue. Grace whispers to Luke…

"This is my fault."

Luke whispers back, "What do you mean?"

"This morning, just before I woke up, I was…travelling. I saw a blonde girl digging up a plastic box that had something important to her inside. I didn't get to see what it was because I woke up. Luke, it was the same girl that shot your mother."

"Grace, that isn't your fault. When your normal sleep cycle ended, you returned to your body. There was no way to stop that. It was just bad timing."

Grace nods, but still feels guilty. She should have tried to fall back asleep, but by then she was too mad at Joan for being drunk to be able to sleep again. Really, in a way, this is Joan's fault.

Joan sits going through her list of messages on her phone. There are dozens of calls and texts listed, mostly from well wishers about her father's campaign. Among the messages from college and old high school classmates, friends and neighbors, are four messages from Dr. Hunter. If only she had checked her messages…

Will breaks the silence. "What did everyone see? The police will want to know. Joan? You must have seen something since you knocked me out of the way of the bullet."

"I saw this young girl, maybe about 15 years old, step out from behind a couple of large men – almost as if she had been hiding. She was reaching for something in her bag, and that's when I jumped you, Dad."

"You started to jump me before you actually saw the gun?"

"Uh yeah, I guess I had a hunch from the crazed expression on the girl's face. I just acted on instinct, but…I didn't think about where the bullet would go." Joan begins to cry.

"Joan, you can't blame yourself for that. You were very brave and did the right thing. I'm sure your mother will agree as soon as she is better. What about you, Kevin? You were right next to Joan. Did you see anything?"

"Sorry Dad, but between looking after E.T., I mean Eleanor, and listening to your speech – as short as it was, I didn't see anything. I do remember taking a call from John Hunter just before the shooting. He was there in the crowd and wanted to speak with Joan. What was that about?"

Joan shrugs. "We didn't get a chance to talk about much. Everything was happening too fast. Did anyone else see anything?"

Luke and Grace both shake their heads, but Annie asks, "Grandma hurt bad?"

No one answers. Grace hugs Annie again and stands…

"I think it would be best if I took the kids home. This is no place for them."

Will responds, "Good idea. Will one of you drive Grace and the children home?"

Grace says, "No, you should all stay here. I can manage fine on my own, and I'll take a taxi."

There is a brief pause for goodbyes and hugs, with promises of update calls. Soon Grace is gone with Annie and E.T. The rest of the Girardis settle back and begin to silently wait. Time passes…

After about an hour, an emergency room doctor enters, his scrubs stained with blood…

"Mr. Girardi?"

"Yes. Doctor, how's my wife?"

"Stable at the moment. She had a vein that was cut in half and it took a lot of effort to get that fixed."

"Then she's safe?"

The doctor noticeably hesitates. "We have to do more surgery. The bullet also struck bone and there are bullet and bone fragments all through the wounded area."

Kevin asks, "How risky is this?"

"I won't sugar coat it. Mrs. Girardi's right shoulder is a mess, and it will take hours to search for and find all of the potentially lethal shards of bone and bullet. We have to get them out before they can nick any more blood vessels. And then there is the risk of infection…"

Luke says, "So we should prepare ourselves for the worse?"

"I can't give any guarantees at this point. Even if Mrs. Girardi survives the surgery and beats the odds on infection, she may have significant loss of the use of her right arm. We'll just have to wait and see. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."

The doctor gives a curt nod and exits. The four Girardis sag back into their chairs, all concerned for Helen's life and very much aware that she paints right-handed.

X X X X X

Will continues to sit, drumming his fingers on the chair's arm. Coffee has been supplied by the hospital, and all of the Girardis have taken advantage of this - for something to do if nothing else. The door opens and Captain Toni Chadwick enters. She and Will share a brief supportive hug.

"Will, any news?"

"She's in surgery, but it may take several hours. What about you, Toni? Any news?"

"We have the shooter in custody. She's a 15 year old sophmore at Arcadia High by the name of...Roberta Morrison."

"Morrison? Then she's...?"

"Robert Morrison's daughter - the escaped parolee you killed by running the getaway car into a pole over four years ago."

Will sighs heavily. "I guess that explains it."

Joan cries out, "Roberta Morrison? Oh no!"

Will asks, "Do you know her?"

"No Dad, but I met a friend of hers - and old buddy of mine from high school named Noah Beaumont. He mentioned that his friend 'Roberta' was having difficulties in school after the tragedy that happened Halloween night."

Toni Chadwick nods. "I confirmed that with my husband. Steven says the girl has been in a downward spiral ever since that night, and has been having regular counseling sessions to help her deal with the violence she witnessed. The gun used today was the missing revolver taken from the dead school guard on Halloween."

Will remarks, "We've been looking for that gun for months. We feared it had fallen into the hands of one of the students, but we could hardly make home searches of a thousand different families."

Kevin comments, "It sounds like this Morrison girl fell through the cracks of the system. Why wasn't she suspected before this?"

Toni replies, "Because she was seen as one of the victims, not as a potential risk for violence."

Will says, "At this point it doesn't matter. Toni, did you get a confession from the girl?"

"She's staying mute until she's had a chance to talk with a lawyer. With this being a holiday, we probably won't be able to get her a public defender until tomorrow. First thing any lawyer will do is demand a psych evaluation. Odds are, if she's found competent to stand trial, she'll be charged as a minor."

Luke asks, "Does that mean she'll just walk away from this?"

Will replies, "Not right away. If the courts find her incompetent, she will get psychiatric confinement until she can be pronounced 'cured'. Worse case for her, she will get juvenile detention until she turns 18, followed by a lengthy period of probation."

Luke cries out, "That's all she gets for shooting our mother?"

Toni sadly nods. "A kid her age almost never faces an adult court. Of course that might change if..."

Joan completes the thought. "If Mom dies."

Everyone goes silent.

X X X X X

"Kev, I just heard the news. How is your mother?"

Kevin has stepped out into the corridor to take this call. "She's still in surgery. No news one way or the other. How did you hear about this, Barbara?"

"Step-Dad called. He's in Arcadia with some new girlfriend and he said he saw the whole thing happen. It's already on the national news."

"Figures. I took a look outside and there's a small army of reporters gathered. The bastards are waiting to see if my Mom dies so they can enhance their stories."

"Kev, be fair. They're just doing their jobs - just like you use to do."

"I suppose, but your attitude changes when you're on the other side of the story."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Let everone on our show know I can't be sure when I'll be able to get back."

"I will, and even though you're vital to the production, I know everyone will understand. I wish I could be there with you."

"You have your work, and there's no sense flying out when we may have good news any minute."

Barbara hears Kevin's tone and knows he is trying to convince himself. "I wish I was the praying type. At least then I'd have something to do."

"Father Ken is here. He's sort of our family priest. He's inside praying with Luke right now."

"I hope he can add a little comfort to your family. Let me know when there's any news, okay?"

"Okay..." Kevin says and then hesitates. "Barbara..."

"Yes Kevin?"

Kevin hesitates again. Why is he listening to Joan's crazy words? "Are you pregnant?"

This time Barbara hesitates. It goes on so long, the hesitation becomes the answer.

Kevin asks, "How long?"

"About three weeks."

"Were you going to tell me?"

"I was waiting until I decided what I wanted to do."

"And have you decided?"

"Not yet."

"And if I hadn't asked and you decided to...get rid of it, were you ever going to tell me?"

"No."

There is a long pause while Kevin and Barbara listen to each other's breathing.

"Well, if my opinion counts for anything, I want this child."

"And if I decide 'no'?"

"This isn't a good time to discuss this, Barbara."

There is another moment of silence as each realizes what has been decided but not said. Without another word, both disconnect.

Kevin sighs heavily and enters the waiting room. In the corner Father Ken and Luke are praying. Joan silently cries and Will stares at the floor, his thoughts far away.

"Dad, why don't you stretch your legs? You'll feel better for it." Kevin suggests.

"I should stay here."

"Just for a few minutes, and we will come and get you if there's any news."

Will nods and pat's his son's shoulder. Will exits and automatically heads for the hospital's chapel.

X X X X X

Joan is walking about, hoping to see a God version. She has fully expected Nigerian Doctor God to have made an appearance by now. This waiting is maddening, and the fear...it just won't stop. Maybe Old Lady God is around? Joan could use a shoulder to cry on. Joan reaches the hospital's atrium and remembers the last time she was here was the night Annie was born. Joan looks into the relatively small space and is surprised to see her tutor waiting for her. Joan enters and is glad to see they are alone. No need to pretend she isn't talking to an invisible giant angel.

"Do you have a message for me?"

In response, the angel kneels down and assumes the lotus position.

"Meditation? Now? Speak to me!"

The angel ignores her and begins a barely audible chant in a language Joan doesn't recognize. She realizes he is speaking in 'tongues', and if her spiritual level wasn't so low, she would be able to understand him. Reluctantly, Joan sits on one of the area's benches and assumes a meditative pose. Scripture begins to whirl about in her mind, and Joan picks one and begins her own chant. Over and over the words pour from Joan's mouth, and she begins to calm. Her spiritual side begins to rise, and soon her chanting is also in tongues.

Joan's grasp of the world around her fades, and as this reality strand becomes just one of many, Joan begins to see the endless possibilities...

X X X X X

Will sits in the back pew of the hospital's small chapel. There are no overt religious symbols as the chapel is meant to serve all faiths. There are numerous books of scripture/holy text on a shelf, including many works of philosophy. Will supposes in difficult times, people take their comfort wherever they can find it. Will yawns a bit, exhausted by the stress and from getting no sleep last night. He is glad he is alone. There are a few things he would like to get off of his chest, and he didn't want to disturb Luke or Father Ken. He knows his son's growing faith is important to him, and despite being a priest, Will has grown to like Father Ken. Will looks to the front of the chapel, where a priest would stand in a Catholic ceremony - behind him would be statues of saints or an 'inspiring' painting. Those are not there today, but this location will do...

"Sometimes I hate you."

"Why do you say that, Will?" a voice to Will's left says.

Will turns his head and sees a handsome young man with short spiky hair, wearing a brown corduroy jacket. How did he miss this stranger when he is sitting only a few feet away?

"I guess you recognize me. If you don't mind, I'd like some privacy."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Who are you?"

"I'm God."

Will sighs. Great, just what he needed - some nutjob with a God complex.

"Go away before I call security."

"I'll gladly leave after you answer my question. Why do you sometimes hate me?"

"Look kid, I'm not in the mood. I don't hate you. I don't know you."

"You know me, Will. You have spoken to me often. Like the time you asked me to keep your parents together. You offered to be nice to your sister and to be a priest when you grew up if I granted that request."

Will stares at the strange young man. "How...? No, I'm not going to listen to this. You're a crazy man who has investigated my life so you can pretend you're God."

"Will, I am God. The same God you prayed to for forgiveness after you shot and killed Joseph Petrangelo during his attempt to rob a bank."

Will glares at the stranger. "That shooting is a matter of public record, and who wouldn't pray for forgiveness after killing someone?"

"You didn't pray after you killed Robert Morrison. Nor did you keep track of his daughter, despite being a very compassionate man. You've been thinking this is your fault. That if you had kept track of Roberta, helped her when she needed it, then today's tragedy would never have occured. But the memory of your kidnapping and near execution were too painful for you, and so you swept that event to the back of your mind."

Will gulps hard, begining to feel uneasy. This young guy doesn't look or sound crazy despite the words he is uttering. Who else can it be?

"So, you're here to what? Gloat? I choose not to pray to you or believe in you any more and you punish me by hurting Helen?"

"Will, I love Helen. I would never harm her, or any member of your family."

"Then where were you all of those times we needed you? When Kevin was injured. When Joan went crazy. When Ryan Hunter was attacking every religious target in Arcadia. When Helen was shot. Why didn't you stop those things?"

"Will, was I driving the car when Kevin was hurt? Did I pull the trigger today? Those were acts of free will by others, and I know you Will. You believe people must bear the consequences of their actions, tempered by mercy. Should I seize control of all of humanity and bend them to my will? Would you rather live in a world without choices?"

Will hesitates. "Good people shouldn't suffer in a world that's fair."

"The world is not fair, Will. The devil sees to that."

"Then stop him!"

"I am. It just takes time."

"It's taking too long."

"One day you will have the perspective to see that all of this has occured in a blink of the eye. In the meantime I, and those who believe in me, do all that we can to keep the enemy's dirty little handprints off of my creation."

"And what is all of this suppose to mean to me? All I want is for my wife to live. She's a good woman who believes in you. If she dies..."

"You will hate me even more. You will hate me so much, you would dishonor the memory of your wife's beliefs by forever turning your back on me."

"Yes."

"Just know Will Girardi, no matter how much you hate me, I will never turn my back on you. I know you to be a good, loving, compassionate man and for these reason, and a few others, I will always be there waiting to welcome you back. Know that I will always love you and intend only good things for your life."

Will closes his eyes as tears begin to fall. Suddenly he feels a hand on his shoulder...

"Will, the nurse says the surgeon will be out soon to tell us the news." Father Ken says.

Will looks about but only he and Father Ken are in the chapel. Even as he stands and nods, Will decides he has just had a very vivid dream - no more. In fact, he recalls from a few years ago when Helen spoke of a dream about God where he was a handsome young man in a corduroy jacket. In desperation for stress relief, his subconscious must have latched onto that memory. Still, those thoughts were disturbing...

X X X X X

Joan now sits alone in the atrium, still meditating and still crying. She both hears and senses the arrival of God. Joan opens her eyes and sees Cute Boy God sitting next to her. He smiles...

"Am I still 'Cute-Boy'?"

"Habit. I've noticed you've allowed this version to age in appearance."

"This version was always meant to be a contemporary, and if I remained at a high school age appearance..."

"It would start to look a little creepy when I was seen hanging out with you. Okay, 'Cute God' it is."

"How goes your attempt with the new ability?"

"Lousy. I'm having a hard time organizing the various scenarios into an order of probability. Especially when it comes to...Mom."

"This ability takes a lot of practice, but it can have great usefullness. As for your mother, your fear is denying you clarity."

Joan nods. "I've been trying to pray in faith for her recovery, knowing that you respond to faith and can arrange the best possible outcome through that faith...sort of like a conduit between the problem and your power. But, I see too many possibilities! In one, Mom recovers fully with no lasting consequences. In another...I see myself at her funeral. After that there are a host of scenarios between those two outcomes, mostly involving Mom having some degree of permanent damage that ends her art career."

"Yes, the closer you are to the situation, the more difficult it is to deal with the 'scenarios'."

"I've also been thinking about Roberta Morrison and how she got that gun last Halloween. The more I think about that night, the worse it gets. I can see at least twenty potential outcomes for that night, and only one of them had me winning - a very low probability. In all of the others I got killed, dozens of other people were slaughtered and the death demon escaped to continue his usual job of influencing the violent deaths of thousands of people a year."

"Yes, the scenario where you won was definitely low on the list of potential outcomes, but you knew that it was risky when you went to face the demon. You were very brave, Joan."

"And lucky. If Elaine Lishack hadn't intervened, I would have been killed. But then, I can now see what happened right after that. Ms Lishack knocked me out and took me to meet that old boss of hers, some spymaster named 'Max'. They drugged me and I told them everything about me being an instrument of God. If that hadn't have happened, I would have swept the area looking for anyone under the influence of the death demon. I would have found Roberta and driven out that lingering influence. Today's shooting did not have to happen."

"It was an unexpected consequence of Elaine's actions. That often happens when humans decide to try to control the fate of others."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this? When I woke up in the back of my pickup with all of those empty beer bottles around me...I thought I might be becoming an alcoholic. Do you realize how scared that made me?"

"Yes Joan, I realized it. You've never asked me about your drinking."

"Oh. I guess I haven't. So what's the answer?"

"Use the new ability and tell me what you see."

Joan closes her eyes for a few moments before replying. "Okay, I definitely see a scenario where I become a hapless drunk - a constant embarassment to my family and a burden to them. I also see the possibility of me never taking a drink again, making me even more of a social outcast than I am now. But...the most likely scenario is that I will become a moderate social drinker who tries very hard not to get drunk again."

"Moderation in all things, Joan." Cute God remarks.

"Okay, I'm probably not going to become a boozehound, but that doesn't answer my other question. Why did you keep me in the dark about what Lishack and Max did to me?"

"You think I should have revealed their secrets to you?"

"Yes."

"The way I go about revealing everyone's secrets to everybody?"

Joan sighs. "It would violate their free will. Still, a hint might have been nice."

"What does the new ability tell you about Max and Elaine?"

Joan again closes her eyes and in moments she is nodding. "The satanic cult I fought at Christmas is one of only many located all around the world. Max, with Lishack's help, are now aware of the situation and are passing the info on to the right person to deal with... Oh crap, Issac B. Dunn! Is this why you didn't stop me from working for I.B.?"

"It is one of the reasons. In the months ahead, Issac will be bringing down groups who have through the generations done unspeakable evil in their warped honoring of the other side. It is a time of great victory Joan, and you played your part."

Joan sighs and shakes her head. "No, I only did my part because you were there to guide me. If I had been on my own, with this new ability, I never would have faced that death demon, especially knowing it could lead to my Mom getting shot. At Christmas I never would have sought the help of Pansy Schubert to help recover Friedman's kid brother, knowing I would in the end have to kill her when she went rogue. There are so many decisions in my life that I would have changed if I had this 'gift' at that time. I...can't do this. I'm giving it up."

"Joan, there is a period of adjustment, but in time..."

"In time I would learn to handle it better, but that wouldn't change my feeling that this is wrong - at least for me. I can't handle this. I can't handle knowing all of the possible outcomes and having to choose for myself and others to go left or go right. To proceed or halt. All based on an interpretation of the the best case scenario. And, I'd never have the guts to make the tough choices on when to defy the odds. I would...lose faith."

"Joan, are you sure? This gift is usually offered only once."

Joan nods. "Like with a lot of things, I may have regrets, but I have to go with my gut on this. I give it up."

"As you wish, Joan."

"You're not upset with me, are you?"

Cute God smiles. "Actually, this was the most likely scenario. Over the centuries only a handful of my servants have been able to accept the awesome responsibilities that go with stepping up to this level. Their names are legendary through the ages."

Joan smiles. "So there will be no revised scripture - no Book of Joan?"

"There is sufficient scripture."

"I just hope my tutor takes the news as well."

"Joan, I thought you understood. Your training at your current level is complete. From now on you will have to handle your own training to maintain your current abilities."

"No more tap-tap-tap on my window in the mornings? Gee, my tutor might have been a pain in the butt on occasion, but I'm going to miss him. I guess he will be glad to be rid of me?"

"Don't be too sure. Even as he moves on to new assignments, trust that he too will miss you."

A look of sadness crosses Joan's face. "I guess I should start getting use to this. Being alone..."

Cute God shakes his head. He takes Joan's hand. "One last glimpse with the gift before I go..."

Joan closes her eyes, wondering what God will show her. Before her Joan sees an airport scene, and she can sense it is sometime in the future. From the angle where she is standing, Joan has a limited view of what is going on. She can see two young people waving goodbye to some people who are out of Joan's angle of sight. The two young people look like they are off on a long trip (possibly backpacking their way through Europe?). There is a young woman in her early 20's, maybe just out of college. And a very handsome young man in his late teens, maybe just out of high school - in fact, he wears an Arcadia High class ring. Seen through spiritual eyes, both of these young people are aglow with their love for God, and clearly they serve as instruments of God. It takes Joan a few moments to realize who the young blonde woman is...

"Wow Annie, way to grow up gorgeous."

As Annie and the teen with her begin to walk down the corridor to their plane, she pauses. Annie looks back to exactly where Joan would be standing if she were truly there. There is no sound that Joan can hear, but Annie clearly mouths the words: 'Thank you, Aunt Joan'.

Joan gasps. "She can see me! Annie has the gift. She knows I'm watching her from twenty years in the past."

Annie motions for the teenaged boy to join her and points to where Joan seems to be to her. The boy looks dubiously at Annie, but Annie says something insistent. The boy responds by waving at Joan, although he clearly does not see her. Joan begins to wonder, does Annie have a brother? Is this a nephew who will be born in just a few years? Annie smiles and takes the young man's hand. Instantly, Joan knows who he is.

He is her son.

A cry of joy escapes Joan's lips as she feels overwhelmed with a sense of love and pride for this wonderful young man. Her son! Joan wipes away tears of happiness, but when she looks back, the vision is gone.

"Oh God...oh God, I have a son!"

"Joan..."

Joan sighs as she hears the tone. "Of course. This is just a possible scenario. The probability rests with the free will choices of a lot of people, including me and...a husband?" (Pause.) "A boyfriend?" (Longer pause.) "Random sperm donor?"

Cute God chuckles as he rises from the bench. "Joan, the future will have to work itself out on its' own without your foreknowledge."

"Then why did you show me this?"

"Of late, you have become depressed. You have been giving up on the prospect of a happy life, and that has saddened me. Joan, I wanted to show you there is a good chance for better days ahead. Have faith that I love you and will always look over you - intending only good things for your life during the years of service ahead of you."

Cute God heads for the exit...

"Wait! What about Mom?"

Cute God smiles. "As you know, I have obligated myself to respond to prayers of great faith."

"But, I wasn't able to pray that way."

"Someone else, a person with extraordinary faith, has been in prayer for your mother. All possible favorable circumstances have come together for her benefit."

Cute God gives the back hand wave and exits. Only moments later, Kevin looks into the atrium...

"Joan, the surgeon is coming out to tell us his report."

Joan rises and smiles. "Then let's go hear the good news."

X X X X X

Dylan Hunter jogs through the Brentwood neighborhood of L.A. where he lives with his father. He is glad for the chance to exercise and unwind. When his dad called with the shocking news of Helen Girardi being shot, he immediately went into prayer for her recovery, and has been doing so for hours. Just a short time ago he felt a sense of 'release'. That his prayer has been answered. Dylan thanked and praised God profusely, feeling a sense of great relief.

As Dylan runs at a steady pace, his cell phone rings. He activates the bluetooth earpiece...

"Hello?"

"Hey little brother."

"Barbara, any word?"

"Kevin just called, his mother came through the surgery just fine. In fact the surgeon said he was amazed how well everything went. They expect Helen to make a full recovery, and after some physical therapy, she should be able to resume her art career."

"Thank God, that's wonderful news. Any word from Dad?"

"Kevin said no. The cops have been busy keeping away anyone but family. I did get a text from Step-Dad assuring me he and this 'Elaine' woman were okay."

"Is that attitude I hear?"

"Maybe... Okay, definitely. Who is this woman, and what has she done to so bewitch our normally on the straight and narrow parent?"

"I explained, Elaine Lishack is my old science teacher from when I attended Arcadia High. Dad met her in Arcadia once or twice, but how they happened to hook up here in L.A., that was a little vague. But be happy for Dad. He has a smile on his face for the first time since he broke up with Felicity."

"Hey, I'm thrilled John's getting on with his life, as long as this Lishack person is okay?"

"More than okay, at least in my book. She was a good teacher during the short time I was in her class, and she is a devoted mother to her little girl, who will be turning two next month."

"Two, huh? The same age I was when John married Mom."

"Don't be jealous. No one could ever replace you in Dad's heart."

"Yeah, I guess... Still, some people do repeat patterns in their lives. Look at my real dad and his habit of quickly divorcing every wife who has a kid."

"Dad is nothing like Hi Greyson, no offense."

"None taken, but you can see where I'm coming from when it comes to relationships and babies."

Dylan pauses in his running. "Barbara, am I suppose to be reading something between the lines here?"

"Uh...not over the phone. Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow at the studio? There's something I need to discuss."

"Sure. Are you okay?"

"Tomorrow at noon. Bye Dylan."

Barbara disconnects and Dylan wonders about the serious tone he was getting from her. Dylan is about to resume his jog when he spots a familiar 'person' sitting on a bench in front of the Brentwood Chapel of Peace (where he briefly attended). Part of Dylan's charism is the ability to recognize God in any form, but he is all too well acquainted with Crazy Hat God. Today she is wearing a mortar board with a tassel. Smiling, Dylan goes to sit beside her...

"Attending a graduation?" Dylan asks.

"Yes, yours."

"Mine? You mean from 'spiritual boot camp'?"

"Yes Dylan, you have completed your basic training far earlier than most do. Your exemplary work over the Christmas holiday has convinced me you are ready for ther next step."

"I'm not sure what 'work' you are referring to. My memory of that time is completely gone."

"Then you will have to take my word for it, you performed very well. So well, you are now graduated."

"Nifty. Do I get a diploma?"

"No, you get an opportunity - or rather, three choices. The first is the chance to leave my service, should you desire to do so." (Dylan opens his mouth to protest.) "Wait, hear the other options first. The second option is to stay at your current level. You will be able to do a lot of good work at this level and help a lot of people."

"The third is to go higher?"

"Yes, but ponder this choice. It requires a far more intensive level of training, and there can be considerable risks. You could frequently find your life on the line."

Dylan nods solemnly. "God, you know my heart. There is nothing I want more than to serve you. I'm willing to take any risk in your cause."

Crazy Hat God smiles, clearly touched by Dylan's devotion. "So be it. Your advanced training begins tomorrow."

"What can I expect?"

"You will have your own personal tutor, one of my angels, who will train you every day. Starting early tomorrow you will hear a tapping on your window..."

THE END.

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